


Kinky Angels and Vanilla Demons

by ximeria



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), Crowley's True Form (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), Kink, Kink Negotiation, Multi, Romance, Sex Toys, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29743194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ximeria/pseuds/ximeria
Summary: Kinky Angels and Vanilla Demons - or asupernatural ethereallong journey of exploration.In which an Angel and a Demon treat the whole no fraternization rule with the same casual blasphemy that orangutans show to God.(quoted source)Or in other words, Aziraphale and Crowley embark on a sexual adventure because Crowley has gotten it into his head that should he ever instigate sex or Satan forbid, top the angel, there is no way it will not cause Aziraphale to fall from his grace.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 64





	1. In which our Ineffable Idiots prove that they are in fact, idiots.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Meinposhbastard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard) for being, well, a pushy bastard, a fab betareader and good friend.
> 
> Thank you to [Lurlur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur) for being awesome as always, for the extra set of eyes on the story and for pointing out more than a few wonky bits and bobs. You will always be the fabulous Lursaurus to me.
> 
> You guys helped so much in bringing out the best in this story.
> 
> I am fine-tooth-combing the chapters but there will be 11 in all - scheduled posting probably one pr day, two if my pollen allergies don't interfere XD
> 
> The story plays loose and fast with gender and sex - these are not humans after all. What is gender and even more important, what is refractory period?
> 
> All footnotes are under their relevant paragraphs because otherwise it'll screw with screen readers. It's not purely laziness on my side to avoid coding it the old fashioned way.

When humans said that God was watching, they were both right and wrong. About 99.99999% of the time She did not. However, She had the odd experiment that She would check in on. One of them had been going since the Garden of Eden, and had initially been a spur of the moment setup.

Upon seeing who Hell had sent to cause trouble, She had made sure that the angel on duty would be too much of a conundrum for the demon to ignore. It would not have done to have one of the classic angels ™ there, no, the situation had called for someone unorthodox.

Over the following six thousand years, She had followed this experiment with more attention than most of the others. For no other reason than the experiment having gone on for longer than She'd expected plus it kept throwing her predictions off.

She had watched as the possibility of the Apocalypse had come around and Her little experiment had tried to meddle. For all intents and purposes, She should probably have done away with said experiment at that point, but Her curiosity got the better of Her and, much like humans with a train wreck, She could not look away.

* * *

Somewhere in Soho, on the corner, upstairs, in an old bookshop, a demon was face down in a pillow, arse in the air and possibly seeing Nirvana if one were to believe the babbling he was sharing with it.

Crowley was not in the habit of denying himself the joys of the flesh, though for many centuries he'd felt the whole thing had been a bit boring. When one had been around as a tempter since the Garden of Eden, one should be allowed to feel bored with the limitations of even the human imagination.

It was possible, Crowley mused to himself in between biting the pillow and cursing Aziraphale through clenched teeth (and pillow), that he'd had a slightly different point of attention for a while now.

One that had made human sexuality take a backseat.

Or rather, the backseat of another car entirely.

And said point of attention was currently making the most obscene noises with his mouth pressed against Crowley's puckered opening, tongue impossibly dexterous, and flushed cheeks warm against Crowley's arse cheeks. 

Aziraphale was most certainly an angel with an oral fixation.

Crowley's entire body was twitching, as if it was trying to simultaneously move forward and away from that damned talented tongue, and trying to push back to greedily demand more.

For anyone who had known these two for more than five minutes, it would not be a huge surprise that they would indulge in carnal pleasures, though there was a reason why Crowley was fighting the urge to turn the tables and wring every ounce of pleasure out of the angel, to extract the same obscene noises from those lovely lips.

Lore had it, among demons, that if a demon could tempt an angel to the simplest of pleasures, the pleasures of the flesh, they could make said angel fall.

So one might be able to see the predicament that Crowley was currently in. For now, Aziraphale was still an angel with his grace intact, but for how long? [*]

(* Aziraphale indulged Crowley whenever the demon demanded to see his wings to make sure his grace was still intact with a slightly put upon sigh.)

  


One might wonder if the lore was wrong, if the rumour of old had been nothing but that, misinformation, fake news, whatever one would call it. All to avoid fraternization. In Crowley's head it had a different spin. If Aziraphale hadn't fallen yet, with the things they had done together, it would have to be because he was always the instigator and Crowley made damned sure that the angel knew he could do whatever he wanted with him, but he'd not take his own pleasure actively.

For thus was Crowley-logic; if a demon did not instigate or cause the desire in the angel, then it would be the angel's free choice and thus it was not the demon causing the angel to fall.

Now the above needed a bit of unpacking.

First off, just because Crowley didn't instigate their pleasure, it did not mean he wasn't the one causing said instigation. His mere presence and existence was more than enough to set Aziraphale off. So that argument was already a little thin.

Freedom of choice was another loaded one. As angel and demon they were not supposed to have this. They were supposed to live by a set playbook and not deviate. Of course the whole meddling in the Apocalypse would beg to differ on this account. So to Crowley it meant that Aziraphale had a choice, and apparently Crowley, naked on a horizontal surface, was very much part of that freedom of choice.

For the last part of it, one might say that seeing as Aziraphale hadn't fallen at this point, he probably wouldn't. Considering what he'd done to Crowley since they had started this whole flesh business, a good three weeks ago, it would have been enough to make every saint in history fall as well as most of the Heavenly choir.

And maybe an archangel or two.

And God would be of no help here. She had never set up parameters to define what it would take to make an angel fall, after the initial Fall - and that had been a rather elaborate experiment that had led up to the Apocalypse - and the subsequent failure of it. God had never planned for the world to end or not to end. Only for the Apocalypse to come around.

It had been and still was (in so far as linear time mattered to a being like God [*]) why She did Her experiments. A never ending supply of curiosity that could never be sated.

(* The closest a human might come to understanding it, time would not be called linear, but more like a big ball of timey wimey stuff. Bit like a great big yarn of timelines, especially right after the cat had gotten into it.)

  


So God watched as a principality failed to fall and a demon tried to be virtuous. Or at least as close as he could get to such a state. She watched the experiment and theorized. She could cheat, if She wanted to. She could lift the curtain of the code of the universe and see why this was, but She was far more interested in seeing how her test subjects would go about it.

For the time being, said test subjects were engaging in exactly what test subject C was afraid would make test subject A fall.

If they could have seen themselves, through and through the way She saw them, they would have witnessed how Aziraphale's grace did not so much diminish as it waxed and waned where it intertwined with Crowley's more diabolic aura. There was more fusion than cancellation _or_ annihilation.

So God watched and formed Her theories, and in Soho, an angel used his skilled tongue to bring a demon to the brink of his sanity and possibly beyond.

"Aziraphale, have mercy," Crowley muttered, splayed on his front, feeling spent and not caring enough about the wet spot cooling underneath him to actually miracle it away.

"I let you finish, did I not?" Aziraphale teased.

Crowley closed his eyes and tried hard not to sigh. Protocol, in such a situation, would dictate that he return the pleasure, and he knew perfectly well that Aziraphale would be more than receptive to it. The angel was fairly gagging for it, but obviously too well-mannered to mention it.

And it hurt like hell in the deepest, darkest recess of the heart that Crowley's corporation sported. He wanted Aziraphale to have everything the world had to offer, everything _he_ had to offer.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to act upon it. In Hell there'd been briefings about this. One of the highest recommandations one could earn in Hell was specifically seducing an angel and making them Fall.

There were rumours of some who had managed to do this, but Crowley wasn't sure exactly how much truth there was to those rumours. But even a small risk that he could make Aziraphale fall by merely acting on his own needs — taking from the angel what he, himself was willingly giving: absolute submission in the bedroom— did not bear thinking about.

So Crowley simply folded when Aziraphale wanted this, and prayed to a God who didn't listen that the best of Her angels did not fall for what he was doing. In Crowley's slightly warped logic, as long as he wasn't actively meeting Aziraphale halfway or taking the wheel, Aziraphale wouldn't fall.

All because the first time Aziraphale had taken him to bed, Crowley had been so worried and jittery that it had ended up being, well, not one-sided, but rather with more activity on Aziraphale's part than Crowley's.

It had been a lovely Saturday night, the evenings a bit hot and humid at the cusp of summer. Aziraphale had been laughing, cheeks red with the exertion and eyes bright. Crowley had been busy staring and acting as if he hadn't been, and Aziraphale had stopped laughing, put his hands on Crowley's cheeks and kissed him.

The rest of that night had been a bit of a blur. A good one, though, and even better when Crowley had demanded to see his grace afterwards, frantically worried that he would find something wrong with the normally pristine white wings.

There'd been nothing wrong. They had been every bit - and then some - bright as they always were.

So Crowley theorized that it was alright as long as he didn't start anything and just let the angel do whatever the angel wanted to do to him. [*]

(* Unfortunately, the angel wasn't enjoying it as much as Crowley might have been hoping. And he was about to have to put out some epic fires, if he wanted their friendship to carry on.)

  


The mattress dipped and there was a quietness that was almost deafening. Had Crowley been a little less high from endorphins, his alarm bells might have worked at their usual level of sensitivity - which was to say the slightest tremor of a bottom lip would set off claxons loud enough to wake the dead.

But this was not one of those moments, and all Crowley could fish out of his brain and forward to his vocal cords was, "hmmm?"

"May I… would it be alright if I asked a question and requested absolute honesty?"

Crowley stilled. "Angel, I am always honest with you." It was out before he could stop himself. But it wasn't a lie. He was fairly sure that Aziraphale had lied to him more times than he'd lied to Aziraphale.

"Good," Aziraphale said quietly, then cleared his throat. "Would you tell me if you didn't want this?" he finally managed to ask, his voice sounding more than a little shaky.

Crowley froze where he was, face still pretty much buried in the pillow. A quick surge of a miracle and he was covered enough to comfortably roll over to face his hangman. The wet spot disappeared as if it had never been there.

He found Aziraphale sitting on the edge of the bed, hands hanging between his knees and his head bowed. Opening his mouth to answer the question, he felt his breath stutter in his throat.

How could the angel think that he didn't want it? Crowley had been thinking about being intimate with Aziraphale for millenia. Hell, his best temptations had been fueled by such thoughts. Even if he'd never tell anyone about that, because it felt sacrilegious. But if he'd ever wanted to get in the mood, all he'd had to think about was Aziraphale.

Vehemently arguing would not do. Crowley knew Aziraphale far too well for that. It was hard not to, seeing as they'd known each other and each other's quirks for six thousand years. Instead he sat on the bed, next to the angel, his own hands folded in his lap.

Could he maybe deflect the question? Before he could make a choice, Aziraphale continued.

"I know you and I are normally above judging body types, seeing as they're not really _us_ , but I also know that we've been around humans long enough to have formed… preferences."

Crowley frowned. "What on earth are you on about?" The question was out before he could stop himself.

Aziraphale still didn't turn his head to look at him, but cocked it to the side instead, staring intensely down at his own hands. "My corporation is not exactly what would be considered desirable by the masses," he said quietly. So quiet it was almost impossible to hear. "I am perhaps what is considered a little on the 'cushy' side."

Crowley blinked in confusion. His brain refused to understand what was being said for a few long moments. Mainly this crash of thought process could be blamed on the fact that there was no one on Her green earth that was more desirable in Crowley's eyes than Her principality.

"The masses are a bunch of sheep, Aziraphale, you know that."

"Then what am I supposed to think when you let me take my pleasure from you, bring you off, but you do not reach for me in turn?" Aziraphale finally turned his head to look at Crowley and the demon quite frankly wished he hadn't.

The level of despair and frustration in those blue eyes was indescribable.

Crowley's hands burned with the need to touch, yet he still heard the echoes of the old tales, felt the risk of dragging Azripahale into a fall he did not deserve.

God paid good attention to this, all Her other experiments pushed aside for a while. [*]

(* She had been watching a new world evolve, a small rabbit-like creature leaving its underground network of tunnels for the first time, lifting its purple little nose to the sky and howling as its teeth shone red in the light of three moons and fuzzy moth wings unfolded from its back.)

  


"Angel," Crowley said, voice breaking a little. "There is nothing I want more than to spread you out on this very bed and bring you any pleasure I might."

"Then why don't you?" Aziraphale asked, voice just short of a wail.

"Because you'll fall if I do!" Crowley all but shouted.

The room went quiet as a grave. Maybe even quieter. There were always sounds in the ground from earthworms and insects. This kind of quiet in the bedroom in Soho was the absolute absence of sound.

Neither of them were breathing.

"I'll what?" Aziraphale asked, question so explosively loud that Crowley winced.

"You heard me," Crowley said, miserable to the core.

"Is that why you keep asking me to see my wings and enquiring as to the state of my grace?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley grit his teeth. He'd wanted to keep this to himself, because he wasn't particularly surprised by what came next. He did, as mentioned earlier, know his angel to the core.

"Now why on earth would you think that I would fall from having… carnal relations with you?"

"Sex, angel, call it what it is - not like you were holding back," Crowley muttered after unclencing his jaw. "You know the stories as well as I do."

"My dear boy," Aziraphale said, a sigh escaping him that seemed to drown out all other sounds. "Those stories have no roots in reality."

"How do you know?" Crowley asked. He was both arguing and desperately hoping that Aziraphale had some proof that could save him.

God leaned in. Even She didn't know and She put good faith in Her principality's intelligence, more than Crowley's at least. Not that the demon set the bar terribly high. The whole unicorn debacle had said enough about Crowley's grasp on reproduction for one. Even if he had acquired the knowledge moving on, some things were still a bit patchy. If anything, it had said more about the power of his imagination.

"Well, for one, do you not think that it would have happened already, considering that we have been having quite a lot of carn- sex over the past few weeks?"

Crowley growled under his breath. "You love me, Aziraphale, it's bound to have been what has kept you from falling."

"And pray tell, Crowley, how does that work, then?" Aziraphale asked, voice calm and without an ounce of emotion.

"You love me, and you're the one who calls the shots," Crowley said desperately, trying to find the right words for the nebulous reasoning in his head. "I am not tempting you into it."

"And you can't _participate actively_ , why?"

What he meant to say was 'my love is not pure enough to keep you safe', but instead he said: "It just doesn't work the other way. If I started our encounters, it would bring about your fall."

"Bullshit," exclaimed an angel in Soho at the same time as God did much the same somewhere above.

The bedroom was once again quiet. Crowley wanted nothing more than to defend his logic, but when he opened his mouth to do so, Aziraphale held up a hand to stop him.

"You do not doubt my love for you?" Aziraphale asked slowly. When Crowley shook his head, he nodded slowly, a frown line deepening at the center of his brow. "So you doubt your…" he trailed off, a strangled noise escaping him. "You doubt your love for _me_ , then?"

"Angel-" Crowley began, realising at least partly that he'd very much put his foot in it.

"I see," Aziraphale said, voice so quiet that no human ear would have been able to catch it.

To Crowley he might as well have screamed it from the mountain top.

"I think perhaps I need an early night." The door to the bedroom swung open. "I feel a little worn out."

Crowley's knee-jerk reaction would have been 'no wonder, you were really going to town on me', but thankfully he managed to kill the quip before it could ever escape.

Aziraphale had his back half to Crowley and there was no mistaking that he had been well and truly dismissed. Asked to leave. All but thrown physically out the door.

Crowley lifted one hand to reach for Aziraphale, but halted himself. Instead he nonchalantly snapped his fingers and his glasses covered his eyes and he forced himself to leave the bedroom, walk down the stairs and through the bookshop. It was not until he was at the door to the Bentley that he realised that he'd been pressed out by a metaphysical, or rather, aethereal power.

Aziraphale had, for all intents and purposes, thrown him out.

Crowley slid into the driver's seat and the Bentley's door fell shut with a muted 'thud'. He put his hands on the steering wheel, but did not start the car.

The Bentley held its metaphorical breath.

As did God. Not that She needed to breathe either, but She'd held Hers since the moment Her principality had swung the door to the bedroom open with a palpable air of despair and hurt.

Crowley touched the skin under his eyes. There was no way in Hell or Heaven that they could have come away wet, yet they did. "God?" Crowley's voice broke for a moment. "This isn't possible, the ability to cry was burned out of us when we fell!"

God, of course, did not answer. She did hear him, though, and where he was confused by this development, She was intrigued. He was right, after all, Her clever little demon. However, unlike other demons, Crowley never changed his corporation. Much like the Bentley, it had however adopted a quirk or two, it seemed. [*]

(* Crowley had actually cried once before, but it had been after the fire in the bookshop and he'd been far too drunk to take notice and wonder about it.)

  


The Bentley stayed parked for a long time before it slid into the night, engine quiet as a cat's purr, nothing playing on the radio.


	2. A new kind of Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In which fences need mending and Aziraphale does something that he's not supposed to after drunkenly talking at God._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale oversteps a few boundaries in this one, but he does apologize, so give the angel a chance, okay?

Turning Her attention to the bedroom above the bookshop once again, God raised Her metaphorical eyebrow. Her once so joyful principality was in a fugue, it seemed.

The bed was once again made, any sign of what had taken place earlier gone. The door to the room had been closed and Aziraphale had pushed the room from his mind. He did not sleep, he did not need it, and the bed made him remember far too vividly what had taken place there. What Crowley had said.

Instead he'd made himself a cup of hot chocolate, and liberally added some Bailey's to it. It could not be sweet enough to make him feel better, but he'd give it a damned good try. The alcohol didn't hurt either.

Before he made his way over to his favourite chair, he grabbed the bottle as well. It might come in handy.

A tartan quilt appeared around his shoulders and Aziraphale sat back to contemplate his existence, gearing up for some good old fashioned self-reflection.

This was not something he did very often. The only exceptions had been 1862 and 1941.

For obvious reasons.

He'd been over the top when Crowley had folded under his advances and, in hindsight, that horrible, horrible hindsight, he should have known that something was off.

He took a sip from the cup and savoured the taste and the burn of the alcohol underneath. "God, I know you're not listening, but I have to talk to someone about this and apparently-" he swallowed hard, trying to get the words out. "Apparently my usual conversational partner is part of the problem and cannot, therefore, be part of the solution."

God could only agree with him on this one. Crowley had made a bit of a mess of things and Aziraphale hadn't exactly made it easier for himself. She'd listen. Even if She wished that the principality would find his smile again. It gave him the most lovely dimples and made his eyes shine.

Sniffing, he took another sip. "I suppose I don't have to explain what went on, with you being omniscient," he muttered. "But it seems I was suffering under a minor misconception."

God shook Her head. The angel had obviously let himself get carried away. She knew both he and Crowley had been wanting this for a long time.That did not take being omniscient to know.

"I think perhaps for once I was the one going too fast. Not thinking or considering why he would not…" Aziraphale trailed off. Aziraphale was no stranger to regrets - he'd been around for too long not to be, but he'd also been around long enough that he knew that regrets would get him nothing but an upset stomach and an itch at the root of his wings.

This time he bypassed the hot chocolate and took a draught straight from the bottle.

"Communication," he mused eventually, or rather, what came out was more like 'commmmmunicat'n' but God knew what he was attempting to say, unlike mere mortals, She could understand drunkenly slurred speech just fine.

Cocking his head to the side, he made a face and smacked his lips. "Can't plan properly without being sober," he mumbled to himself and the hot chocolate became a cup of strong, black tea instead.

Now, if he was to get to the bottom of what had happened, he would have to be smart about it. The term taciturn barely covered Crowley. He was simple in many things, but the ones that counted, he could be ever so complicated.

Had he been wrong? He couldn't have been, surely. He knew Crowley loved him, even if he'd always been very focused on not checking. Not just because it gave him plausible deniability, but because such a thing would have been rude. Humans were like open books, demons and angels were like chained up grimoires, kept in locked chests at the bottom of the sea.

However, desperate times called for desperate measures, as the humans were so fond of saying. Aziraphale put his cup aside and closed his eyes, leaning back in his comfortable chair.

His body was cushioned by his chair, but his celestial self fell through the concept of chair, floor and earth. Downwards movement became upwards and the starry night flickered around him as he slipped from Soho to Mayfair.

God watched him curiously. She had never witnessed him do this before, and no one could have taught him this. Quite frankly, She knew the other angels never did this, most of them were probably unaware of the possibility.

Her clever little principality, numerous wings and eyes floating through the night. She turned her attention to Mayfair and wondered if Crowley would notice the fairly impressive amount of grace filling the air of the neighbourhood.

He did not.

Crowley was curled up in bed, deeply asleep. When others managed to let off steam through outbursts or violence, Crowley rage-slept. And while his domain was warded against intrusion, it had a very specific exception woven into it.

Aziraphale sunk through the physical mortar and brickwork and came to a halt at Crowley's bedside. He should not be doing this, he knew it, but he had to know. If the demon truly loved him, then he would move Heaven and Hell and Earth as well to fix this. If he did not, then Aziraphale would mend their fences and try to get everything back to where it had been before he'd decided to change their status quo.

He'd not even halfway manifested in the real world before he fled Mayfair. Reality flickered around him and he had to get away.

Not because he felt no love coming from Crowley, but because he felt so _much_ of it. Had he stayed, he would have basked in the pure love for him that was coming off Crowley, and his grace would have grown so strong that even Crowley would not have been able to sleep through it.

Slipping through the night like a ghost, Aziraphale felt both elated as well as deeply worried. If this was how Crowley truly felt, then the thought of Aziraphale falling must have brought him the worst kind of anxiety. And Aziraphale had not helped on that account. On the contrary, _again_ he had caused his loved one pain.

Of course, Crowley's logic still made no sense. If he thought that lying back and letting Aziraphale do as he pleased was less of an offence in Heaven's eyes than actively taking part or initiating anything, he would have to think again.

Aziraphale had only fleetingly heard about making an angel fall through temptation. And only ever from angels under his own station. Possibly because the lot upstairs were too ramrod straight to ever let themselves be tempted by a demon, so it was never mentioned, nor warned against.

Aziraphale had no intention of 'being tempted' in general [*] \- but more than anything, he wanted Crowley to meet him halfway.

(* More specifically, that option was already well filled.)

  


"Would that be a sin, God?" he asked, turning his many eyes to the void beyond Earth's stratosphere.

She wished She could reach down and reassure him, but She could not. She was quite certain it would not bring about his fall, but even She could not say for sure. There was no preexisting data for Her to lean on, after all. In this, Aziraphale was correct. No one before he and Crowley had walked this path.

"No, I have to figure this out myself," Aziraphale sighed, his eyes but two closed as he sunk back into his bookshop. Between two heartbeats, he was once again settled in his seat, inside his comfortable corporation.

First off, he would have to get Crowley to speak with him again, and that would probably take quite some convincing. Second of all, Crowley was having one of his sleeps, and even God wouldn't know when he would wake up again.

However, if step one was to get Crowley to speak with him, step two would be to find a way to both test that they would not, in fact, cause either of them harm, and step three would be to carry out said tests to prove to Crowley that they were okay.

She was strengthened in Her love for Her principality as She felt his intentions solidify, knowing that he would go about it methodically. Such a good child, She thought to Herself. Such a quick study.

Aziraphale curled up in his chair. For now, though, he would do what he probably shouldn't, as he had breached Crowley's domain. But he could not push the memory of how Crowley's love for him had felt. Like waves upon waves of it. Stronger than anything Aziraphale had ever felt from a human towards another human. A love that had grown and been nurtured through thousands of years.

Unknown, unseen, unacknowledged.

And for that Aziraphale would do everything in his power to get things back on track and prove to Crowley that they could do this as they had always done things: standing together and finding the solutions to their problems.

"Perhaps a new arrangement," Aziraphale muttered to himself. Then shook his head with a frown. No, that wouldn't do. The arrangement had been nothing but a flimsy excuse to see each other and cover their rather flexible need to pull the wool over their own eyes as to what they were doing.

If that hadn't caused Aziraphale to fall back then, he could not imagine loving and being loved by a demon would do it.

It was _love_ , after all. So much love that Aziraphale knew that Crowley would do anything for him - even leave him alone for the rest of eternity (perish the thought).

God had to agree on that account. Now of course, the archangels could not make anyone fall, for that it would take an act of God, but She still had no prior proof that grace could not be corrupted. She most certainly was not going to actively cause him to fall.

Of course, it was promising that they had managed to switch bodies and were still able to walk away afterwards. And She could see that Aziraphale's grace was as pure as ever.

"I'm still here, my grace is still intact," Aziraphale echoed Her. "And I have to convince him that giving into our love, carnal or not, will not make me fall."

Faith could move mountains, God knew. Well, metaphorically at least. But somewhere at Her core, She was beginning to believe that Aziraphale might just make it literal instead. Especially if said mountain was a very special demon.

* * *

Crowley blinked his eyes open. Sleep had been an opportunity to forget for a little while, but as his eyes slid open to let in light, the memories came a-knocking. The anger and bile rising in him he embraced, the despair he pushed away.

A quick check told him that he'd been asleep for a few days. So not the century long slumber that he'd thought he might fall into. It would be a lie if he thought that he hadn't halfway expected Aziraphale to be waiting at his bedside.

However, the flat was eerily quiet, the only activity, he found as he made his way into the kitchen to get some coffee, was the blinking of the answering machine.

No one used it. The only reason why he hadn't gotten rid of it was because that was a lie. One person did.

Three messages.

Crowley rewound the tape and walked into the kitchen. He was not going to be so desperate that he would actually press play right away.

Coffee in hand, he circled the table with the answering machine like it was a dangerous animal. Slipping into his seat on his gilded chair, he put the cup down and pressed play.

_"Yes, hello… Crowley, I…._ The connection cut out.

Crowley frowned and stared at the answering machine. Then the next message began playing.

_"I'm sorry, I must have fidgeted so much I hung up,"_ Aziraphale's voice sounded thin and tired.

Or perhaps Crowley was just projecting.

_"I am aware that this would be best done in person, or at least I believe so, but I also want to give you as much space as possible."_ Aziraphale fell silent, only the low noise of breathing was making it across the line.

Crowley wanted to yell that he didn't want space, but he had to acknowledge that had he found Aziraphale in his domain when he'd woken up, he'd have lashed out.

_"I want to apologise for not taking your worries at face value - even if I strongly disagree. I feel perhaps we are not particularly skilled in communicating, and I want you to know that I've thought long and hard about your fears. And I want to find a way to fix all this, if we can. I hope you feel that way as well."_

Aziraphale went quiet and for a long moment, he said nothing, then the sound of the phone being hung up ended the message.

A sigh of relief escaped Crowley, much to his own surprise. He hadn't lost their friendship if Aziraphale was doing this. If the angel was willing to acknowledge that Crowley's fears had merit, it was an even bigger surprise. As much as Crowley had loved the new physicality of their relationship, he would, if not gladly, then at least grudgingly get rid of it, if it meant he would have his friend back.

The third message kicked in and Crowley cradled the cup of coffee in his hands. Now for the final one - and possibly a solution. It wasn't that Crowley didn't come up with his own plans, but the angel was better at thinking it through. He took ages about it, but at least he'd never shot himself metaphorically in the foot like Crowley had with the phone system back when the Antichrist had been born or, for that matter, the whole M25 thing.

_"If you are amenable, let me know when you are willing to meet. Perhaps neutral ground if we still have such,"_ Aziraphale chuckled. _"I think perhaps I have a possible solution, and even if you will not agree to that solution, at least we can try to get things back the way they were."_

Crowley wanted to scream that he didn't want to go back to what they had been - it had been torture - but he also didn't want to risk Aziraphale's grace. And in the end, it was a horrifyingly easy choice to make. He would take another six thousand years of torture, if it meant keeping Aziraphale safe.

However, if Aziraphale said he had a plan, Crowley would listen to it, but he was more than ready to disagree with it. If there was a risk to it, he would simply have to turn it down.

He held off calling Aziraphale back for another half hour in which he consumed six espressos, two Turkish coffees and two cups of his usual black coffee. [*]

(* The good stuff, because that was how Crowley rolled. If he was facing a phone call to Aziraphale, he'd need more than supermarket brand coffee.)

  


Had he been human, he would have jittered through time and space, but being Crowley with a corporation that was used to his habits (and levels of caffeine) he merely burped a bit and finally slung himself into his chair again, picking up his mobile.

The phone rang for less than ten seconds, and Crowley only managed to get the words out because he'd been going over them in his head constantly for the past few minutes.

"The little Italian restaurant down the street," Crowley said. Maybe not the most neutral place, but Aziraphale adored it and he wouldn't start a scene there. He had far too much respect for the elderly lady who ran it.

_"When?"_ Aziraphale's voice sounded a little strained, but otherwise alright.

Crowley closed his eyes. Blessed, but he'd missed that voice. "In two hours." It would be after the lunch rush and they would be able to take their time.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, audible through the phone line. _"I'll see you then."_

"Yeah," Crowley agreed, before hanging up. He slowly put his phone down on the table and buried his face in his hands. It was best to get things over and done with as soon as possible. If he dragged it out he'd just cave and they would be back where it had gone wrong the last time.

The two hours dragged their feet, although it should have felt like nothing to an immortal being. Of course time cared nothing about this, and Crowley ended up pacing his flat to the point where his plants were trembling and the floor was hot from the friction of his feet.

Getting into the Bentley felt like a death sentence, like he was on his way to his own execution. Again the Bentley played no music and Crowley winced. He knew she was very sensitive to his moods though normally she would be a sassy bastard and play exactly the thing that would rub it in Crowley's face.

It spoke volumes that she was quiet as the grave, her engine barely a hum as she glided through traffic.

Through demonic intervention, there was a parking spot big enough for her when they arrived and Crowley parked and sat for a moment. He was perhaps one or two minutes early, but when he looked up, he could see that Aziraphale was already seated at the table they always sat at when they were there.

So it was time to collect the frayed bits of his spine and go face the music.

He'd hear Aziraphale out, then see where it would get them, but he would not let the angel talk him into doing anything stupid.

Crowley's resolve wavered like a wet noodle in the wind when Aziraphale looked up as he walked in and the smile on his face would have blinded any normal human being.

Lucky for Crowley that he was not human and was, in fact, wearing shades.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale looked like he was about to get to his feet to greet Crowley, maybe even touch him or embrace him. Then his demeanor faltered and he more or less sunk back into his seat. "It is good to see you again, my friend."

Crowley felt his guts twist like a nest of snakes. He was the reason why Aziraphale was putting a lid on his enthusiasm, wasn't he?

God would agree, but there was, of course, also the fact that Aziraphale was very focused on this working and much like one would treat a skittish animal, Aziraphale did not want to scare away Crowley before they had had a chance to mend fences.

"Angel," Crowley said, aiming for cool and collected, but the word came out more like the endearment it was among humans these days, laced with his and Aziraphale's millennia long history.

Aziraphale's worried face softened and he gestured at the other seat.

Crowley sat, noticing that Aziraphale had only had his entré. "Main dish on its way?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "There will be time for that later." He folded his hands in front of him. "I think perhaps we should get a few things cleared first."

Crowley nodded mutely. He felt the urge to slither away into a dark corner nipping at his heels. At least he had enough self-control to stay in his seat.

God may have cried a small tear [*], if She had had tear ducts, of course. Although technically speaking Crowley was a demon and thus part of the other side, he was still one of her creations. And he was showing a never before seen level of maturity at the moment by staying in his seat.

(* Yes, that tear. You know which one.)

  


"I want to apologise first," Aziraphale said, taking a deep breath. "I should not have pushed from the start and perhaps I overreacted…"

"Angel, no," Crowley said, waving a hand. "You didn't. I just don't do communication very well and you know I get words wrong sometimes." It wasn't a lie. Crowley had had time to reflect over what he'd said to Aziraphale and he could easily see how his words would have torn at Aziraphale, causing him hurt. If Crowley had been more articulate from the beginning, they would not be in the current situation.

"Crowley," Aziraphale stopped him. "That may be the case, but I should have been more aware of our… interactions. Should have addressed it earlier." He made a face. "And with a little more sensitivity."

Crowley looked down at his own hands, currently in his lap, nails perfectly manicured (as if they'd dare be anything less) his bony fingers pale as his hands were clenched into fists. He forced his muscles to let go and felt his shoulders sink a little. He still felt tense. "You mentioned a possible solution?"

"Yes." Aziraphale gave him a thankful look. "I have been considering two roads out of here."

Crowley had a momentary flash of being told that this was goodbye, but he shook the knee-jerk reaction off. They wouldn't be here, if Aziraphale had given up. His angel was like a damned dog with a bone when he got something into his head. Hopefully, it meant that if he wanted to still be friends with Crowley, he wouldn't even consider parting ways.

"We can put it behind us and go back to what we had before."

Crowley made a face. It would be both the easiest and the hardest way out. It would be the easiest to start, to wipe the slate clean. It would be the hardest, knowing what they could have, though. If they would only work for it.

"Yes, not my first choice, either," Aziraphale agreed. "However, it may be our only option if the other solution isn't to your liking. We're either both in it, or not at all."

Crowley nodded, steeling himself.

"First off, I have to issue an apology," Aziraphale said with a sheepish look on his face. "You know how I can feel when someone's in love?"

Crowley nodded. He also knew that he'd always been safe because Aziraphale was too nice a boy to pry. Then the words caught up with him and he felt hot and cold all over. "You looked."

"I was desperate," Aziraphale admitted, bowing his head in shame. "It was the same night. I told myself I had to check, and had I found nothing, I would have not considered anything but bringing us back onto the previous path, all dalliances forgotten."

Crowley knew how he felt for Aziraphale, but God as his witness, which in this case She was, in his eyes his love was tainted and not pure enough to count. And Aziraphale had seen it.

"Crowley, dear, hear me out," Aziraphale said quietly. "Your love for me was so strong and pure, I had to leave right away. Had I stayed I would have been unable to let go of it, my grace would have burned brighter than ever."

"Until it burned out because it's not pure love," Crowley muttered.

"Crowley… how can you think I'll fall when your love is beyond pure?" Aziraphale said, his voice raw with emotion. "Did you not hear me? Your love shines stronger than any I have ever witnessed before."

Crowley shrugged. The angel had to be wrong. Mistaken. His love-dar broken.

The sigh escaping Aziraphale sounded like the howling wind through an old ruin to Crowley.

"Whether or not you will believe me, plays a rather important part in the other option, though," Aziraphale admitted. "But I ask that you hear me out before making up your mind."

Crowley sunk further into the chair, wanting this all to be over. He already foresaw the future where he'd be back to watching Aziraphale without touching. Only possibly this time it would be worse because he knew what he'd be missing out on. He'd have to look into amnesia inducing miracles. Waters of Lethe kind of thing.

"If we take it one step at a time. If we go by your… logic," Aziraphale began.

"I'm listening."

"I play the tempter instead of you - I'd still be the, as you put it, instigator, but you'd be the one taking the more active side on occasion."

Crowley shifted in his seat. Could it work? "But what if I'm right, and you fall?"

"What if you're wrong?" Aziraphale countered. "We can't go through the rest of eternity second-guessing ourselves and what we have, what we could have."

"We can't gamble with your grace," Crowley argued, sitting forward in his seat.

"Is it not my grace to gamble with?" Aziraphale countered. He had a glint to his eyes now and Crowley knew he was one step closer to giving in.

"I don't know…" Crowley bit his lower lip. He didn't miss the hungry look crossing Aziraphale's face.

"Trust me to tell you if something is off?" his angel said with a soft intensity that told Crowley in no small words that this was something the angel was not letting go of so easily.

"We could go back to what we were before, you said so yourself," Crowley argued half-heartedly. Even he could hear that he sounded less than convincing.

"Can we? Truly? Crowley, I don't _want_ to go back to where we were before. I love you and I wish to express that in any way possible - and unless you have a distate in sex, if you are what the humans call asexual, then I want that with you as well. If you are asexual, you should feel free to say so." Aziraphale let out his breath rather explosively as he sat back in his chair, his cheeks red from exertion.

"Are you insane?" Crowley said before he could stop himself. "Angel, I have had more wet dreams about you than you can imagine." Crowley slapped a hand over his own mouth.

Aziraphale blinked in surprise, picked up the menu, put it back down, miracled the waiter over, sent him away again.

Surprised, Crowley realised he'd managed to rattle him with that outburst. He was damned glad that he didn't lean towards blushing himself, because he'd have been beetroot red by now if that had been the case.

He hadn't lied about the dreams, but he hadn't meant to tell Aziraphale about it like that!

Aziraphale somehow managed to order his main dish, a bottle of wine and two glasses and they sat in tense silence until it had been served.

"We start off slowly," Aziraphale finally said. His cheeks were back to their normal, pale hue.

"With you as the tempter?" Crowley still didn't quite think it would work, but he couldn't say that now. What if, indeed, Aziraphale was right?

"I may not be as skilled as you are, have your experience," Aziraphale admitted. "But if you would show me patience, I am more than willing to learn."

"So how do you want to begin?" And when, Crowley wanted to ask, but he feared he'd sound a little too desperate.

"I think… " Aziraphale paused. "I feel perhaps we should not see each other for a few days. You need to think this over, first and foremost."

"No, I don't," Crowley said, once again his words bypassing his brain.

Aziraphale shot him a worried look.

"What I meant to say," Crowley said hurriedly, hoping he could get the right words out this time. "I know you want me to think it through, but you're not wrong when you say that while going back is an option, it's not a viable one. For one, one of us would eventually slip." He knew it would happen. Knew at some point they might feel comfortable with each other again and they would let down their guard, and one of them would lean across the table and kiss the other.

And they would end up in the same place again, or maybe even worse, they would fully destroy their friendship.

Crowley felt like the clarity of the moment wasn't entirely his. He dared a quick upwards glance.

God held up Her metaphorical hands and shrugged. She hadn't done anything. For once, Crowley had reached the right conclusion entirely on his own. Even a stopped clock was right twice a day. Though perhaps, She thought, it was not quite fair to him. Crowley was mired in the need to protect Aziraphale and it would always be at the forefront of his mind, any logic, right or wrong, would be filtered through this.

She could not fault him for this. If anything, Her principality, while strong, would not have lasted this long if not for his knight in, well, perhaps not shining armour - then midnight black.

"Let's give ourselves a week, my dear," Aziraphale said. "I need to prepare a few things. How does Friday night sound to you?" He looked a little hesitant. "Perhaps you could come by the bookstore around seven in the evening?"

Crowley nodded. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't appreciative of the fact that Aziraphale was giving him a little more time to run on, but with a set deadline. No 'we'll cross that bridge at some point'. As impatient as Crowley was, he knew Aziraphale was right.

So this was it. "I show up - anything I need to do beforehand?"

"If it's alright with you, I'll call you midweek - I think there are a few things I may ask you to consider, but I need… time to make sure I phrase it the right way to you."

Crowley lifted an eyebrow. How very, very intriguing. And perhaps a tad bit worrying, too. He didn't like to go into situations blindfolded.

"Perhaps a bottle of white?"

For some odd reason that request did more to calm Crowley's nerves than anything else. It was so inherently them, so much part of their usual interactions.

"I can do that," Crowley said, already mentally going through the bottles in his flat. It wasn't like they couldn't just miracle up a bottle if needed, but they had both long since agreed that there was a much better taste to the stuff that humans made and let sit for ages. There was something about angelic or demonic miracles that soured the berries to the point of not appealing to either of them.

Aziraphale reached across to him, his hand looking more steady than Crowley felt it had any right to do. Yet, he reached out and grasped it like a drowning man would a piece of driftwood.

"Deal?"

"Deal."


	3. Calling in the cavalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale plots and realises that maybe he needs a bit of help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much bedroom stuff going on in this one - though you get introduced to the OCs of the story.

Aziraphale closed the door to the bookshop, making sure nothing human nor supernatural would make it across the doorstep while he was next door.

Had anyone told him that he would be doing this before the Apocalypse had come and gone, he would have seriously accused them of not being mentally sound. He shifted the basket over his arm as he walked to the 'adult' store. The tasteful sign outside told him it was closed, but much like his own shop, it was accessible if one had the right kind of errand and network.

In this case it meant knowing the ladies who owned and worked there.

It had entirely been a chance meeting kind of thing. One late afternoon, the store next door had had a rather unwelcome client, who had caused them quite a lot of trouble. Edith, one of the women, had snuck out and into Aziraphale's bookshop, which had chosen to be open on that very day, like the place had known it was needed. [*]

(* Aziraphale could have sworn he'd kept the closed sign closed and the lock locked, but sometimes the bookshop had a mind of its own.)

  


It had very much taken Aziraphale by surprise, but when Edith had explained that they needed to call the police and that her partner, Helena was with a client next door who was threatening with horrible things (Edith would not go into details, but Aziraphale was haunted by the fear in her eyes for days afterwards), he could not have turned her away.

Things had not gone quite as badly as they could have, with a little angelic intervention. And Aziraphale had ended up spending the evening next door, brewing a never ending amount of tea. He had also found that the years he'd spent disliking the adult store next door, could have been spent much better making friends instead.

Edith and Helena were some of the loveliest ladies he had ever had the privilege of knowing - and he'd been around for long enough to have met quite a few. Edith was soft spoken, but with a core of steel that made Aziraphale a little more fond of her. She was a petite girl with long, brown hair, who tended to dress in dark business suits and not speak unless she felt she had something to say. Her quiet attitude and smaller stature made most people underestimate her. She could hold her own and had done so on more than one account, though. To Aziraphale she was the perfect image of 'still waters running deep'.

Helena was tall and built like an amazon warrior and tended to dress in sweaters and jeans. Aziraphale had spent an entire afternoon discussing the merits of labelling human sexuality with her. Safe to say that he had not felt as challenged in years - and by a human who would go toe to toe with him, arguments interesting and thought-provoking. Quite frankly, not a mean feat for a mortal being when it came to someone like Aziraphale who felt as if he'd been forced to shake dust and cobwebs off himself for the first time in ages in order to hold his ground.

This meant that some days, or rather evenings, when the shop next door closed, he'd take snacks and a good bottle of wine to chat with the two women. Today, however, he had an agenda. He had been working hard to figure out how to tackle his next step with Crowley, and Friday wasn't so much inching closer as coming at him in leaps and bounds, with a cricket bat to boot.

He needed help.

He knocked on the door and it swung open, Helena's tall form blocking it for a moment, before he was let in with a smile and a quick hug. While most people would think that Edith would be the soft and welcoming one, Aziraphale had never had as many hugs as he had since he'd gotten to know Helena.

What Aziraphale perhaps failed to see, was that Helena was of the same mould as the principality himself. Someone like God, who could see right through their souls, ethereal or human, found this an interesting aspect of Her little experiment. Helena was strong, protective and caring. Aspects that Aziraphale had been imbued with from his creation.

God felt that perhaps Edith was the only one who could see this - because she would sit back during their talks, sip her wine or coffee and watch them both with a small smile. It was helped greatly along by the fact that both Helena and Aziraphale had a bastard streak a mile wide and this was a trait that Edith appreciated in other people.

The right kind of bastard - and unknowingly, Crowley would be one of the people who could agree with her on this.

Or would, had they known each other at this juncture.

"Aziraphale, don't loiter on the front step," Helena said, stepping aside.

Aziraphale would normally bristle at this notion, but he knew Helena's brand of humour by now and, if anything, it put him to ease, made him feel welcome. 

Something even Heaven had never managed.

"I bring gifts," he said, holding up the basket.

"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts," Helena said with a grin.

"More than you might think, my dear," Aziraphale said, glad that he had avoided Greece during that period specifically. "So perhaps it is good I am not Greek."

"Edith said you had needed some help with your love life," Helena said, completely filterless as always.

Pre-apocalypse Aziraphale would have argued, hemmed and hawed, but by now he knew that he was woefully unprepared for what he'd tried to plan with Crowley. The more he'd researched, the less he'd realised he knew. And could one even apply human terms and facts to a demonic creature?

"I am afraid she is very much right, my dear," he said, "which is why I asked if I could perhaps have your input in regards to what I am attempting to do."

"Go sit in the back, Aziraphale, Edith is doing up the till and will be with you in a moment - I need to put some things away and then I'll join you."

Aziraphale did as he was told, putting the basket on the small coffee table in the back and let himself slide into the comfortable monstrosity of a couch that the two kept there for clients.

He had been unsure what exactly the term 'client' covered for the shop, but he'd realised that the two women had more than just a simple shop with adult toys. Edith had sat him down and wiped his misconceptions out of existence one night. And Aziraphale felt horrible when he considered how often he had let those misconceptions colour his dislike of having the shop next door.

Aziraphale wasn't blind to the fact that a lot of his dislike had been because it was expected of him. Pleasures of the flesh, as long as he'd labelled the shop as a den of depravity, and told Gabriel when he'd enquired, that he was, of course, opposed to it, then that was exactly how it was.

The fact that he'd been lying to himself to some extent, he wasn't exactly proud of. He knew from Edith and Helena that most of their time was spent aiding the community's queer population. It also meant that a significant number - and it was growing - of pamphlets with numbers for helplines and network nights were by now on Aziraphale's counter. As was a growing number of book titles - new as well as old, that he had spent many an evening discussing with Edith.

These conversations had been why he'd offered Crowley the way out in regards to asexuality. While Aziraphale was aware that it was a thing among humans, to define one's sexuality, he had never thought about it in regards to non-humans. He'd simply thought that Crowley would be as flexible about it as he himself was. It was speaking with his newfound friends that had made him consider it.

It was marvelous how humans would surprise him time after time. They had taught him much that Heaven never would have, or could have, for that matter. And perhaps, when it had all gone down he'd realised that he, much like the Antichrist, had been more human than ethereal.

He couldn't even find it in himself to regret this. If anything, it tied him more to mankind than Heaven - him and Crowley.

And Aziraphale wanted to embrace this side of humanity whole-heartedly.

Edith slipped into the big stuffed chair she always occupied on these evenings. She put two glasses on the table - and Helena's cup of coffee. While Helena assured them it was perfectly alright with her that they had alcohol, she was a teetotaller and stuck to, as she put it, her own brand of poison.

He and Edith launched into their usual title swap while they waited for Helena to join them and Aziraphale felt that perhaps Edith was doing it on purpose as well. It never failed to help him calm down and destress when he spoke literature with someone else.

"Right, I'm here," Helena said, sliding down to sit on a cushion on the floor by Edith's chair. In the early days it had been a bit odd, but by now it was so inherently them that Aziraphale would have taken notice if she hadn't.

"Do you want to continue talking books or do you want to get down to the core of the problem?" Edith asked, sipping her glass of wine and holding a grape out for Helena to take.

If anything, the ease of the relationship between the two women made Aziraphale ache a little inside. Perhaps a little envy there - he had to admit at least to that.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale shook his head. "I fear I may have gotten myself in deeper than I'd expected," he admitted. "I have been researching what to do, but I feel the more I've read, the more woefully unprepared I feel."

"Why don't you start with the beginning?" Edith suggested.

Aziraphale smiled to himself. How to do this? He couldn't very well start with the garden of Eden, could he? Well, perhaps not in so many words, but…

"I recently ventured into a more physical relationship with a man I have known for many, many years."

Edith nodded. "Friends to lovers is not exactly uncommon," she said.

"No," Aziraphale said quietly. He stared into his wine for a moment. "But we were careful about never labelling what we were as friends - our… families are heavily opposed to each other."

Edith winced. Aziraphale knew that this would not have been the first time she'd heard such a thing although it barely scratched the surface.

"Safe to say, we kept up our appearances, he and I met as, well, let's call it colleagues, but never addressed how we felt about each other. Then it all came to a head a while back, and neither of our families are in the picture anymore."

"You were free to admit how you felt - can't have been easy if years have gone by without that option." Edith surmised. Helena offered up the bottle and Aziraphale held his glass out, glad that she was offering him a moment of respite.

"It took some, and even then, I don't think we ever truly spoke about it as much as we probably should have," Aziraphale admitted.

Edith nodded. "What is it you've been planning, Aziraphale?"

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale threw himself into explaining.

* * *

Thursday came around and Aziraphale stared at his telephone. Crowley would be there the next day and after his talk with Edith Aziraphale had realised just what he was getting himself into.

She had cautioned him to start up easy - while neither she nor Helena could know about Crowley's hangups, they had gotten the gist of it. Enough that Helena had asked if he'd considered the use of safewords.

Now, Aziraphale had done his homework, but he hadn't truly considered that his initial ideas would merit the use. However, both Edith and Helena had schooled him. And if anything, Aziraphale understood the better safe than sorry angle.

Picking up the phone, he called Crowley who picked up on the second ring.

_"Angel."_

Aziraphale felt heat suffuse his chest. Crowley had always called him this, but Aziraphale felt that the term had been given a warmth and softness over the centuries and by now it was like the softest of caresses.

"Crowley, dear, how are you?"

_"Good, thanks."_

"I wanted to suggest something, for our night tomorrow," Aziraphale said, swallowing hard. "I trust you know how humans use 'safe words' at times when exploring sexual practices."

There was a deep chuckle at the other end and Aziraphale felt like he'd been punched in the gut. In a good way.

_"I'm all ears,"_ Crowley replied.

Aziraphale shook the mental image. He really wished that Crowley wouldn't use that metaphor, considering that Aziraphale himself had more eyes than was probably good for sanity.

He seriously doubted that Crowley's true form did have many ears, but the image failed to go away for a moment.

"Ah, yes," he finally managed.

_"Were you imagining me with a lot of ears, angel?"_ There was a soft laughter to Crowley's voice.

Aziraphale refused to give that question any validation. "Well, yes, safe words, Crowley. I think perhaps we should have them."

_"How kinky are you intending to get?"_

It hurt a little that he could hear the worry under the tease.

"Nothing particularly kinky," Aziraphale said and made a face. "But I feel we should have it and get used to it - in case we end up doing other things as well. And it's not just for kinks, Crowley, you know that. It is just as much to make sure I don't overstep any of your boundaries without you stopping me."

And it was a valid worry - God had to give him that. Crowley hadn't exactly shown a habit of communicating anymore than Aziraphale had.

_"If you think so,"_ Crowley finally replied.

"Would you please think of one for tomorrow - nothing that you might say in the … heat of the moment, and something…."

_"I know how safewords work, angel, don't worry… I'll think of one."_

"Oh, _thank_ you, my dear," Aziraphale said, feeling that the conversation had gone over much better than he'd dared hope for. He'd have to come up with one of his own as well, because one, that was how it worked and two, only fair seeing as if he needed to stop, Crowley would want for him to have one too.

He said his goodbyes and hung up. One thing down, a few more to do. The rest of his preparations were spent vacillating between thinking it a brilliant idea and considering it a horrible one. Mostly because he wasn't sure how Crowley might react. He was sure that Crowley was expecting their usual levels of sex, but Aziraphale had thought long and hard about it - and had run his idea by Edith.

She'd been surprised by his choice as she was aware that they had had sex more than a few times already, but had assured him that his idea wasn't bad, that it was actually a good 'new' start for them.

He wondered if perhaps he was giving her the wrong idea about Crowley. That the demon was frail - which in some ways he was. He was easy to worry, to fret - though Aziraphale was aware that so was he. In many ways they had a few of the same bad habits. But Crowley was also strong and adaptable - and above all else patient. There was six thousand years to prove that.

Aziraphale made sure that what he needed was in the fridge, ready for the next day, and although Thursday night felt like it was crawling by, Friday afternoon seemed to come all together sooner than he was ready for, if he was being honest.

Before he knew it, Crowley would be there. Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and his bedroom felt newer, fresher. The soft beige-brown tones were spiced up a little - a little more golden here and there to accentuate the ambience, a new bed, new bedding.

He didn't want to do this in the bed where things had gone wrong the last time.

Crowley had said he'd be there and Aziraphale knew that he would be - come Hell or high water. And he knew he wanted to be ready for it. He'd called Crowley again in the morning and asked him to simply let himself into the bookshop and come upstairs.

Aziraphale took his time to carefully undress and put aside his clothes. He had the impression that Crowley had been intrigued when they had spoken, and he was more than impressed, proud even, that Crowley had refrained from asking any questions.

Honestly, Aziraphale barely felt worthy of the level of trust Crowley was showing him at the moment. It tore at his chest, making it hard to breathe. Though he would gain nothing from going down that rabbit hole. It was time better spent getting ready for Crowley's arrival.

Naked, he sat back on the bed to wait, then got up again. A snap of his fingers and he was wearing a pair of fetching silk underwear. Enough to cover him up, to allow Crowley to focus on the whole, but hopefully revealing enough to make him look inviting to the demon.

Arranging himself on the bed again, he took a deep breath and waited.


	4. Stick to the speed limit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley is tempted not so much by sex, as by sensuality (and Aziraphale proves he's no lump in the temptation department).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter leans much more into sensuality and temptation than sexual intercourse.

Crowley sat in the Bentley, staring at the dark windows of the bookshop. The only light source in the building was up above the shop itself. One small dot of light that would be the bedroom. Crowley knew perfectly well that it was his destination. It wasn't that far away, yet it felt like oceans were between them.

There was a low hum to the Bentley and Crowley knew it was trying to bolster him, make him feel better. Support him. It boggled the mind, or would have, had Crowley been human - but then again, had he been human, the Bentley wouldn't have been _the_ Bentley, _his_ prized possession, the scourge of London's streets.

He'd spoken on the phone with Aziraphale that morning. There was no reason for him to sit and waste time in front of the bookshop.

Taking a deep breath, he got out of the Bentley and walked towards the bookshop, bottle in hand. It was nothing overly fancy, but it was sparkling wine instead of the white that they'd normally drink. He'd seen it in his kitchen and remembered that Aziraphale was quite fond of that one.

As he let himself through the wards that protected the bookshop from any unwelcome entry, he tried to shake the last vestiges of nervousness. And that was just it, he _wasn't_ nervous. What little was left sat in the pit of his stomach and could better be called excitement, expectations, all topped with a healthy portion of lust, because for all his worry about Aziraphale falling, he also trusted the angel.

Didn't mean he wasn't going to argue if it meant keeping Aziraphale safe.

He detoured to the kitchen and popped the bottle into the fridge, raising an eyebrow at the covered tray sitting in the middle of it. Well, unlike him, the angel enjoyed his food, his snacks, so it was perhaps not quite so strange that he would have a well-stocked fridge (unlike Crowley who used all spaces in the kitchen to store wine - including the never used oven).

Crowley had thought long and hard about safewords. He had wondered about Aziraphale's choice. 'Blitz'. Crowley caught himself trying to guess why exactly that word. The only thing that came to mind would be their encounter in 1941. That opened some cans of worms, alright. Not that Crowley's own choice was any better, sentimental old fool that he was. Especially when the topic involved a certain angel.

_Eden._ Yeah, sentimental he most certainly was. The first place he'd set eyes on Aziraphale and his own 'second' fall. Unlike his first fall, this one still kept him suspended in midair. Even six thousand years later, he hadn't finished 'falling'. As he ascended the stairs, he thought perhaps this was how one would feel on the way to one's own execution. Of course he wouldn't be killed or discorporated, but emotionally he felt it wasn't too far from the truth.

It didn't escape Crowley's attention that Aziraphale had added subtle changes to the bedroom. He was thankful for each and every one of them. If he'd been forced to focus on the same bed, the same quilt as last time, then he probably wouldn't have been able to carry through with their new… agreement.

All was forgotten the moment he saw Aziraphale.

Naked save for a pair of lovely underpants. Sitting, no, _lounging_ back against the headboard. Curves where Crowley was angular. More skin than he could remember having seen even last time. He'd been so busy not looking directly at Aziraphale, knowing full well that all his resolve to just lie back and take what the angel was willing to give would shatter if he had.

Aziraphale looked as if he was unsure for a moment, but then something flared inside him and he shifted, nervousness fleeing like dew drops in the face of the morning sun. To Crowley it was more like a blast of heat like one would be hit with when opening an extremely hot oven. His blood rolled faster, hotter, and had he tasted the air at that moment, he would have tasted nothing but the most delightful morsels of lust.

"Hello, Crowley," he said, voice soft, but even.

"Aziraphale." Crowley was proud that he managed as much as that. His entire being honed in on the fact that he had Aziraphale in front of him, that he could stop this if need be.

Had he ever harboured any thought that Aziraphale couldn't pull off being the tempter, all those thoughts would have been wiped from existence this very moment.

The soft light of the room lovingly followed every curve and angle, giving the illuminated skin an ethereal shine and casting the shadowed parts into a softer darkness that beckoned for him to explore, to illuminate them.

To love every part of the angel that he could reach.

Crowley was perhaps aware of how long he spent just looking, dwelling on this or that detail. It took perhaps even longer as it seemed that Aziraphale was more than willing to let him have as much time as he needed to do so.

For him to be ready.

Eventually, though, even Aziraphale seemed to feel that if they wanted to move forward in any way, he'd have to be the one to start them off.

And Crowley was very grateful for that. Had it been up to him, they'd probably be like that when the next Apocalypse rolled around.

"Crowley, my dear - would you like ideas… suggestions?"

Crowley swallowed hard and nodded. He literally had no idea what to do and in the back of his head he still felt that little niggling doubt that if he acted on any of his impulses, he would cause Aziraphale's fall.

The familiar blue eyes closed for a moment, then reopened and Aziraphale nodded decisively. "In the kitchen, in the fridge, there's a covered tray - please bring it up - along with the bottle you brought over."

Crowley nodded and turned about face, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Respite, a moment or two to gather his wits. Not to mention he was being told what to do and it took the problem out of his hands, didn't it?

It was what he kept telling himself as he trodded down the stairs and into the kitchen, opening the fridge to get the bottle and tray. He considered checking what was under the cover, but decided against it. Aziraphale hadn't expressively said he could, so he wasn't going to. The thought struck a chord in him, made him feel like he was taking orders and doing only what he was told.

Maybe the angel was onto something with this.

Balancing the tray, he walked up the stairs. As he entered the bedroom, he was once again struck by the image. And if he'd thought it was the epitome of temptation when he'd first walked in, he nearly dropped what he was holding this time around.

Only one thing had changed and that was the fact that Aziraphale had brought his wings out, into the here and now rather than keeping them trapped in the ether, in-between worlds.

Crowley's breath hitched. The wings almost shone with Aziraphale's grace and while the image made his blood heat and his body react, it also made him take a deep, relaxing breath. If he could see the wings, it would be okay.

It was possible that the shrewd bastard of an angel had thought of this, but one way or another, Crowley was not going to complain.

Only a fool would.

"Please put the tray on the bed and come join me." Aziraphale patted the bed next to him, his cheeks red and his eyes bright.

At that very moment, Crowley knew that he would do anything Aziraphale asked of him, and it should have worried him, scared him, but for some odd reason, possibly because the angel was so calm, Crowley felt no need to argue, no need to turn tail and run.

It was a novel feeling.

Crowley sat the tray down and took a deep breath. "Do you want me to undress?"

Aziraphale cocked his head to the side, lips pursed and Crowley licked his own. He knew what they tasted like, but it was as if tonight was the first time, as if he hadn't ever.

"It's entirely up to you how much you feel comfortable shedding."

"And if I keep it all on?" He wasn't going to, of course. His usually tight attire would be uncomfortable, no matter what they ended up doing on the bed.

"Then you keep it all on," Aziraphale replied, voice even, and there was no judgement there at all, in his words or his tone.

"Hmm." Crowley still wasn't sure what exactly to think about this, but he'd agreed to Aziraphale trying to fix things and as long as he didn't feel too out of his comfort zone, he was willing to try pretty much anything.

He could have snapped his fingers and gone from dressed to pretty much naked in the blink of an eye, but instead he unsnapped his watch strap and put it down on the dresser opposite the bed. Then he pulled his shirt off, leaving on the tight black undershirt. His trousers needed a little demonic convincing to un-hug his skinny legs, but off they came, the boots pushed under the end of the bed.

All the while Aziraphale was watching him, his white wings towering over him, like a canopy of feathers, gently swaying in a breeze only they could feel, a barely audible rustle as feather shifted against feather.

To Crowley, who had seen human depictions of angels through thousands of years, nothing had ever come close to this - no piece of art had ever caught the beauty of it all, the curves and gentle slopes, the pale skin on cream bedding, laid out for him, a demon, to appraise.

To praise.

To worship. If the angel allowed it, of course.

Dressed down to his black underwear, Crowley slipped onto the bed, almost slithering into the space next to Aziraphale, up against his side. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and Crowley hoped he wouldn't get burned like a damned insect.

Even if he'd ever thought that Aziraphale could be reluctant about a physical side of their relationship, looking into his eyes it would have burned out any such misconceptions. Even if Crowley hadn't noticed the lust coming off the angel in waves, the way he was wetting his lips, licking them, and had obviously been biting his lower lip judging by how full and red it was, no way could he have read it as anything but pure want.

Aziraphale was completely calm on the surface, but Crowley could see the cracks. The hair fine fractures in his self control. There was no doubt that without it, Aziraphale would have had him face down in the bed, begging without it.

If anything, Crowley understood that such a show of self control, even fractured, did more to him than manhandling him on the bed and making him writhe in pleasure ever could. His angel, always the hedonist, never denying himself a morsel, a treat, and even more so now that Heaven was no longer breathing down his neck, such a show of self-control was the most intriguing aphrodisiac.

The feeling of leaning into Aziraphale's naked side was beyond words to Crowley. The warmth of his body, his supposed softness that Crowley knew was only halfway correct. Only the corporation was like this. Soft and inviting, especially to Crowley.

He couldn't help but put his hand on Aziraphale's hip, just above the elastic of the soft underwear, only just modestly covering Aziraphale's effort.

The skin was every bit as warm as he'd expected, as he'd known it would be. However, Aziraphale made no move to engage, so Crowley had to push his own inane need for speed down where it belonged. He'd agreed.

"Thank you, dear," Aziraphale said as if Crowley had gifted him something lovely by going this far without being prompted. The angel snapped his fingers and this close to him, Crowley could feel the energy of the miracle, like a zap of static electricity making the small hairs on his arms stand on end and his scalp prickle pleasantly.

The foil cover disappeared from the tray and Crowley stared down at its content. Trust his angel to ever be the connoisseur of human ingenuity that Crowley loved him for being.

"Chocolate covered strawberries?" It was one of the few sweet things that Crowley liked. At least if the berries were a bit tangy and the chocolate dark. And it did look as if he was in luck, though he knew that most of them would go to Aziraphale, as they should. It was not in Crowley's nature to gorge himself on anything, at least not food related.

"Would you have one, my dear?"

Crowley swallowed hard. Aziraphale's voice seemed to have gone a little deeper and his eyes a little darker. For a moment even, Crowley wondered just how much in over his head he was.

"Don't you want?" he asked, clearing his throat. How could he sound so breathless when they'd barely touched?

"All in good time," Aziraphale replied. And there was that damnable self-control again.

Crowley picked out a treat and popped it into his mouth. One of the smaller ones, so that he didn't feel as if he was choking on it.

The tart taste was perfect as was the chocolate. At least 78%, a slightly bitter pleasure.

Aziraphale put a finger under his chin and leaned in, pressing his mouth to Crowley's, licking at the berry juice and chocolate that would have been left behind on Crowley's lips.

Crowley tried to deepen the kiss, but Aziraphale wouldn't let him, the bastard.

His choice, the angel was in the driver's seat, he tried to remind himself.

When Aziraphale pulled back and licked his own lips with a satisfied sigh, he didn't break eye contact with Crowley. "Would you feed me one as well?"

Crowley felt as if Aziraphale had lit a fire inside of him. Just a small one for now, but it flared up at the very thought. How the hell was Aziraphale so good at this?

Picking up another one, Crowley lifted it to Aziraphale's lips, watching them part, staring as perfect teeth closed around the berry, breaking through the thin, crispy chocolate covering it before sinking into the flesh like some obscene scene from an artsy porn flick.

The last bite disappeared into Aziraphale's mouth, followed by the tips of Crowley's fingers. The softness of the lips that he now knew what felt like, the sharpness of a tooth gracing his skin.

Crowley wondered how this could feel so much more intimate than anything they had done before. And if he thought this was the extreme, he realised that he was in for a surprise when Aziraphale licked at his fingertips before putting a hand on Crowley's hip. The touch was like a brand of iron. Then the angel leaned in and brushed his lips against Crowley's cheek.

"You are so good to me, Crowley, always have been. I revel in the dazzling light of your attention," Aziraphale's voice was low and intimate, his breath tenderly brushing over Crowley's skin.

Crowley swallowed hard. How… how could he deal with this? How was he supposed to? His skin felt like it was too tight over his bones, his mind was slowly sinking into a daze, his focus solely on Aziraphale's warm body against his, the angel's voice sugary sweet in his ears.

"Another?" he managed to get out.

"Yes, please, my love," Aziraphale all but breathed out and the brush of air against the shell of Crowley's ear nearly undid him, it came so close to pushing him to lay Aziraphale back on the bed to yield and take the pleasure that he was being offered.

The rustle of wings drew his attention as he reached for another strawberry. The large wings curved a little more around them, almost creating a small cavern for them, shutting the rest of the world out.

The still pristine white wings.

Crowley caught himself staring as he lifted the berry up.

"Eyes on me, love," Aziraphale said, voice low and with only a touch of command.

Crowley's eyes snapped to his face, meeting his gaze. The demand worked in much the same way flicking a tight bowstring would; something inside Crowley was pulled so tight that Aziraphale ordering him in that silk-over-steel voice made it sing.

"Focus on me, Crowley."

"I can do that," Crowley managed to get out.

"Good," Aziraphale replied before parting his lips and accepting the offered piece of fruit.

The angel ran a hand soothingly up and down Crowley's side, the touch too light to be reassuring and too firm to be a tease. It left a trail of fire on Crowley's skin and as he could not take his eyes away from Aziraphale's lips, he ran his own hand down from Aziraphale's hip to the thigh, all the way down to the knee and back up.

The angel's skin was softer than anything Crowley could remember having touched before. The flesh underneath was supple but only so much, muscle moving underneath, strong as the pillars of the Parthenon.

This was… not what he'd expected when Aziraphale had set the scene, and he felt more than a little humbled. Mostly because he'd witnessed and performed a world of temptations but what Aziraphale was doing had… class. [*]

(* Crowley tended to leave the actual tempting to the humans - a push here, a word there, was often all he needed. To him temptation had lost its luster a long time ago. Which was possibly also why Aziraphale's brand of it was such a surprise to him and so damned efficient.)

  


At this point, Crowley wondered if it would even lead to sex, because this was so much more than what they'd done before.

God felt that perhaps Crowley would have seen this coming. Her principality was a hedonist, sampled and revelled in the joys of humanity. It was to Her perfectly understandable that he would savour intimacy no less.

The wings rustled again, curving closer around them for a moment, then fell aside again. It was mesmerizing for him to watch, while at the same time so aware of Aziraphale's fingers brushing from his hip over the swell of his butt to come to a rest on his lower back.

"Would you pour us a glass of wine?"

Crowley blinked and lifted his head from where he'd rested it on Aziraphale's shoulder. He wasn't even sure when he'd leaned down to do so, but it felt so natural to rest like this.

One wing lifted and Crowley leaned across to the nightstand. Only one glass. He could have asked, but something made him hesitate. He was going to let Aziraphale lead as they had agreed and see where it led. This was a side of his angel that he'd never seen before and putting it mildly, he was more than a little intrigued.

As he poured the sparkling wine, he felt Aziraphale's hand slip a little lower and while he'd normally have just smiled and offered himself up, he could not help but focus on the heat of a finger rubbing just over his tailbone. And that was it, the angel didn't push any further down, just rubbed the tip of a finger against it. The touch sent delightful sparks through Crowley's gut, and made his own effort swell, even if for the moment, he wasn't really paying attention to that.

Surprised that his hands weren't shaking, Crowley lifted the glass up and sat back into his former position, leaning against Aziraphale's side.

Aziraphale slid his arms up a little higher to accommodate him and Crowley was almost disappointed when this meant that the hand so enticingly low on his arse moved up as well.

Forcing the regret down, Crowley held the glass up in front of Aziraphale.

"May I drink it from your lips?"

The thought and imagery hit Crowley harder than it should have, he felt, yet it was exactly what it was. A bolt of lightning from a clear sky. And it almost made him drop the glass that he'd been more or less dangling between thumb and index finger.

Getting a better grip on it, Crowley managed no words. None would come, not even his usual blustering. Instead he lifted the glass and took a sip before leaning in and putting his lips against Aziraphale's.

The burst of sweetness from the wine wasn't to his taste, but feeling the trickle of it past his own lips and into Aziraphale's mouth was not something he had expected.

Aziraphale put a hand on the back of his head and held him in place, his tongue slipping into Crowley's mouth as if to claim the last drop and echo of taste from there.

Crowley felt a moan tear from his throat. The kiss wasn't broken, Aziraphale's lips firm and demanding as they slid against Crowley's. The texture was slick, soft, warm and welcoming, Aziraphale's tongue almost electric against Crowley's.

Something shook at Crowley's core. It bloomed just under his chest, spread out under his ribs, into his belly, tendrils like streams of lava heating and curling around his cock, the first time he realised that he'd been hard for a long time already, too focused on feeding Aziraphale.

Wings tightened around him and Aziraphale broke their kiss. "Again," he whispered, upper lip brushing against Crowley's lower.

Breathless to the point of forgetting that he didn't need oxygen, Crowley lifted the almost forgotten glass, turned his head only enough to take another sip, so close that the movement had Aziraphale's lips grazing his cheek, electric against the tattooed snake symbol.

The hazy feeling returned to Crowley as he did as asked. He pressed his mouth to Aziraphale's again, this time feeling the rumble of approval displaced by a long, breathy moan, the breath expelled from Aziraphale's nose skirting over Crowley's skin.

Aziraphale's hand was still on his nape, was still holding him lightly, guiding him into a slightly different angle and Crowley felt his entire body light up with it again. His vision was filled with the soft, dark brushes of Aziraphale's eyelashes, with the intensified light as the white wings became almost blindingly bright.

Closing his eyes, Crowley allowed himself to just feel, to go with it, watched the light barely dampened by his own eyelids.

Grace. Something Crowley had not witnessed this close in as long as he could remember, his memory of his life in Heaven barely existent. This, this was how grace should be. Clear, bright and all-encompassing.

It burned through him, filled his body with heat, love, understanding and it burned in a way he hadn't expected.

God held Her metaphorical breath for a moment. The two participants in the experiment had never for a moment considered that such a joining might be harmful to someone of a demonic persuasion. It was, of course, possible that it would have hurt any other demon, but that Crowley had been close enough to Aziraphale through the years that he would survive it.

To Her relief, it didn't discorporate or destroy Crowley. Or for that matter, Aziraphale. 

Instead Crowley realised he'd never felt loved like this, possibly not since he'd felt his own grace, the love She had had for him as Her creation. Yet, again he did not remember that very well.

This, however, would stay with him forever. His physical form became secondary, as it was held lovingly, while his essence was bathed in the purest of love. Every dark corner and crevice of his heart, his soul - his demonic being was filled with Aziraphale's love and longing. It shone a shaft of light into previously eternal darkness, dispelling shadows left and right.

His physical body became even less important as behind Crowley's eyelids, everything went white to the point of burning itself into his retina. Nothing felt real beyond the light, beyond the love. And while the brightness let up, it did not disappear. It cradled Crowley, whispered ancient words of worship into his very soul.

Coming back slowly, Crowley realised that he was being held reverently, that he was naked and that Aziraphale was carefully cleaning him with a warm, wet cloth.

"Angel?" Crowley barely recognized his own voice. It was raspy, as if he had been screaming. Which he was fairly sure he hadn't been. Yet his body felt tired, as if he'd been pushing it for a long time without rest.

Aziraphale dropped the cloth out of existence and pulled a soft quilt up to cover them.

The heat made Crowley sleepy. He felt safe, sated and warm. His eyes strayed to Aziraphale's wings, still out and once again curving around them.

"You should rest," Aziraphale said quietly against his temple, lips pressed to Crowley's skin for a moment before he leaned back to look down at Crowley.

Crowley started, not quite understanding that he was actually seeing Aziraphale's halo. Well, if he squinted. While he'd seen his wings on more than one occasion, only twice had the angel slipped enough to let it show - once had been in the early days, in a fit of laughter - and both times they'd been utterly smashed on alcohol.

He wasn't going to say anything, just let his eyes fall mostly shut, the soft light suffusing everything. The rustle of feathers filled his ears.

Crowley wanted to ask if Aziraphale wanted to take his own pleasure now, because he was fairly sure that the angel hadn't climaxed. The heat and feeling of safety claimed him before he could ask, though. Resting sounded like a good idea. Exactly what he needed.

And for once, the sleep that claimed him came easily, free of worries, held and cherished. Somewhere far away he could hear Aziraphale humming quietly, hands soft and gentle where they brushed against Crowley's skin, not to arouse, but to soothe. Above all, though, he drifted off feeling protected by the knowledge that he was being held by pristine white wings. As long as they looked like that, Aziraphale's grace was safe.


	5. Spicing things up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which toys come into play.
> 
> (yes, adult toys and yes, I hope I managed to tackle it with a bit of humour as well ;) )

Aziraphale took a deep, steadying breath.

This was a gift beyond anything he could have wished for. Crowley in his arms, asleep and sated and feeling safe enough it seemed.

His choice of bringing his wings out had been a good one. At least from what he could tell. He hadn't missed the less than subtle looks at them until the point where he'd apparently occupied Crowley's attention otherwise. And he hadn't intended to lose his own control quite that spectacularly.

A chill ran up his pine and Aziraphale closed his eyes, leaned down and buried his face in Crowley's neck. Taking a deep breath, he buried the thought that he could have quite frankly discorporated or destroyed Crowley with his grace. Enough of it and it could have. He knew - it was their grace that they used as weapons against demons and how Crowley had seemed to bask in it rather than shrink back was both fascinating as well as more than a little thought-provoking.

Aziraphale looked up at the ceiling, wondering if God knew how confusing this was.

She did. She was more than a little intrigued as well. It was an outlier, but She could theorize one or two things. Most of all, it seemed that Crowley was less demonic at his core and possibly he'd been so close to Aziraphale for so long he'd simply become, if not immune to it, then resistant.

She had no way of knowing because it hadn't been the focus of Her experiment. It made it no less interesting, though.

In the days that followed, Aziraphale looked long and hard for changes in the way Crowley behaved, treated him, and it was possible that there was a little less stress in Crowley when they kissed, when they made out on the couch. Those times, Aziraphale was careful not to let it tip them over into actually having sex.

He didn't want to risk what they had achieved the other night and it seemed to put Crowley even more at ease as well.

Aziraphale spoke at length with his neighbours who seemed more than a little invested in his sex life, or at least, the emotional side of it - as well as Crowley's. And this was the sole reason that he shared as much as he did with them. Their input was invaluable and quite eye opening to him, but they were also the ones to caution him about moving ahead too fast.

He'd turned his ideas over and over in his head, and then brought them along with a box of chocolates to his friends' place.

"Have you decided on another night?" Edith asked, sitting back in her seat, munching happily on the treats. Helena was visiting her parents for the night and Edith had been more than happy to spend the evening with Aziraphale, letting him pick her mind.

"We've set aside Saturday night for the next one," Aziraphale replied. "I am not entirely sure what I am going to try this time. Though last time went exceedingly well." It still freaked him out to think of how Crowley had been bathed in his grace, but nothing had happened to him. If anything, it seemed to have set his mind at ease.

"Have you considered what I suggested yesterday?"

Aziraphale nodded. "Giving Crowley the controls in some way does seem like a very good idea. I am unsure, though, if he will take it. He responded very well to being praised and told what to do."

"But you need to know if he'll do this as well," Edith argued. "If he can't tell you his boundaries, then you have to tread carefully until you have them defined."

Aziraphale agreed wholeheartedly.

"Aziraphale, have you considered using adult toys at any point?"

Lifting an eyebrow in surprise, Aziraphale stared at her, then down at his cup of tea. "No, I cannot say that I have." The idea was more than a little intriguing, though.

And in the end, Aziraphale went home with more than a few ideas as well as a nice little selection that Edith had handpicked for him.

For a few days he circled the box, read and re-read the instructions. Tried a few of them out for the sake of knowing exactly what they would do. He'd skipped the remote controlled vibrators at first, but as he spent Friday evening in bed with the selection, he decided that if Edith had felt it necessary to include those, then he would at least try them before discarding the idea.

Some of the plugs had vibrators and he'd wondered how to even use those with Crowley. He could easily enough get Crowley to wear them, but it defeated the purpose, he felt. He wanted to ease Crowley into using them on him, as a step forward.

And they were a bit fiddly, if he was being honest.

So it wasn't until he decided to test one of the ones that came with a remote control that he realised just how wrong he'd been.

That meant that, Saturday night, he greeted Crowley with a deep kiss and told him to go sit on the couch while he tidied a few things away that the customers had made a mess of.

No such thing, of course, but he wanted to let Crowley draw his own conclusion about the small remote. It was just a small, black plastic rectangle with a dial that went from 'off' to high enough, Aziraphale knew by now, to make him see non-existent stars.

When the first light buzz pleasantly began, he licked his lips and leaned against a bookshelf. And then the buzz intensified and a moan escaped him. How ingenious these humans could be…

And then the aforementioned seeing of stars hit, from pleasant to far too much.

* * *

Crowley was torn between his usual nervousness because he wasn't sure what was coming, and fully trusting Aziraphale after last time. He'd never imagined that Aziraphale would have been so damned good at what he'd set up to do.

He'd aimed at tempting Crowley, but he'd fully seduced him and Crowley was perhaps a little bothered by the fact that Aziraphale had seemingly been a natural at it. Not that Crowley wasn't aware that most things Aziraphale would do would be attractive to him.

He looked around the back room of the shop, wondering when Aziraphale would be back. Cue the nervousness. Just a slight one, just below the surface.

Without giving it too much thought what it might be, apart from something to occupy his hands with, he took the small, nondescript plastic thingy on the table next to the couch. It looked like a remote, though Crowley was pretty sure that Aziraphale didn't own _anything_ that was within a decade of needing a remote. The heathen wouldn't even get a TV.

It wasn't a big red button, but it might as well have been. A big one with the label 'don't push'. Strictly speaking, there was no 'button' about it - it was a slider that went from off to 10.

He wondered what Aziraphale was getting at with this. He thumbed the slider a little forward, just past the light click that told him it was on. A little past 1 and still nothing. Another nudge and it went to 4 and then 5.

The moan that drifted through the bookshop hit Crowley like a fist to the gut. The sound was silenced a moment later.

It wasn't like Crowley's brain wasn't capable of making the right connections, it was the fact that his finger slipped and the slider jumped from 5 to 10 in the blink of an eye.

This time there was no low moaning - it was an actual squeal.

Crowley was out of his seat and winding his way through the bookshelf maze in seconds, honing in on Aziraphale with an age-old skill.

Opening his mouth to ask if everything was alright, Crowley snapped shut like a clam. He stared at Aziraphale's back, one shoulder leaning heavily on a bookshelf, breathing hard. His eyes strayed down to the small remote, thankfully now at 2, but he quickly pushed it to the off position. The bookshop was suddenly _very_ quiet.

Crowley wanted to say something, but his mouth felt like it was fused shut, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

Had the angel really given him the remote to a… something as human as a… a vibrator?

Aziraphale braced himself and the air rang with the sound of wings being released, stretching out for wing tips to touch bookshelves on either side.

Crowley was mesmerized, the wings possibly bigger than usual, he wasn't sure. They could have been, they were not of this world and they could be streamlined and simple or as they were now; all encompassing and beautiful in their whiteness.

He hadn't managed to destroy that, to taint it.

And that was possibly why he closed the distance between them in two long strides, plastering himself against Aziraphale's back, remote grasped hard in his hand, the one he reached around Aziraphale's waist with to press against his chest. The other went to be pressed flat against Aziraphale's soft middle.

"Crowley, dear, please be careful with that remote, the vibrator is in a rather intimate position this very moment."

Crowley moaned and buried his face in Aziraphale's neck, felt the feather-soft hair tickling his face.

"Angel, you have to warn me before you go and do thingsss like thessse - what on earth possessssed you to get toysss?"

"I had advice," Aziraphale said primly, though it drowned in a soft moan when Crowley thumbed the remote from 2 to 3, feeling Aziraphale push back against him. He was unsure if his trousers had ever been this uncomfortably tight.

"You're going to humans now for advice?" Crowley lifted his head, blinking in surprise. His angel asking humans for input for his sex life? _Their_ sex life. _Crowley's_ hang ups.

"I felt I needed some fresh input, love, now do you remember your safeword?"

"Of course I do."

"Then would you pleeeease," Aziraphale moaned when he shifted a little on his feet, obviously shifting the vibtator as well. "Would you please undo my trousers and push them down? If you are amenable, my underwear as well."

Crowley swallowed hard. "You don't want me to…" He wasn't ready for that. To think that he'd always considered the angel to go at a much slower speed than himself - what a ridiculous thought.

"I am not asking you to fuck me, Crowley, I am not that crude, or cruel."

Crowley swallowed hard. "Language, angel, really."

"Are you willing to trust me?"

"Always."

"Good, then please."

Crowley did as he'd been asked, leaving the remote on a shelf in front of them, within reach. Still on 3. He was very surprised when his hands didn't shake as much as he'd expected when he reached around Aziraphale's waist to undo his belt and trousers, letting gravity take the latter while he took a deep breath and eased the underwear down as well.

He considered leaning down to look, because yes, he was curious as to what exactly the damned angel had jammed up his arse that was causing the small, breathy gasps and moans that he was picking up in HD quality stereo now that he was plastered against Aziraphale's back.

Yet he knew he couldn't. It would push him to the point of feeling jealousy flare, because he'd want it out, so that he could press close and fill its place, regardless of his previous worries, grace be damned. And he couldn't allow himself such a blatant temptation.

As if Aziraphale had heard him, he rolled his shoulders and Crowley netted himself a face full of feathers as the angel shifted his wings. The movement drew Crowley's attention, the whiteness somewhat lessening his worries.

Crowley realised that this close, he had another reaction to the wings. His long fingers itched to touch and he knew that Aziaphle would grant him that if he asked, he had no doubt about it. Another reason why he wouldn't ask and why he'd keep his damned hands to himself.

Well, maybe not entirely to himself. There were always the hips, the love handles, because Aziraphale had that, lovely, fleshy and perfect to grab onto.

However, he still had no idea what Aziraphale wanted and as his own body reacted as it always did this close, he fought the urge to press his aching erection against the perfect curve right in front of it.

Maybe he'd be able to feel the vibrator if he pushed hard enough?

"Angel, you better tell me what you want before I do something I'll regret." Crowley was surprised that his voice stayed as calm as it did - he'd expected it to break halfway.

"Ah, Crowley, as much as I want that eventually, I'm aware we need to take it slow."

Crowley rolled his eyes lazily as he dug his fingers into the fleshy hips and fought very hard not to take what was obviously on offer.

A strangled noise escaped Aziraphale, but he shifted on his feet, shuffled to spread his legs as much as his trousers would allow him.

"I take it you're familiar with intercrural sex?"

"Oxford style, angel?" Something in Crowley quietened down - it wasn't penetration, then. It was safer territory.

"Yes."

Interesting, Crowley had to admit. Aziraphale had found a way that would allow Crowley to more or less fuck him without penetration. Crowley eyed the wings. If it wasn't penetration, would it truly sully an angel? Especially an angel who was currently arching his back, his lovely round butt under the loose hanging shirt; an invitation to sin.

Height difference be damned, Crowley knew he'd have to be creative if he was to give Aziraphale what he was asking for.

Pulling Aziraphale back by the hips, he let go with one hand and snapped his fingers, a soft stool appearing in front of Aziraphale, the perfect height for him to kneel on.

"Oh, you clever thing," Aziraphale all but breathed. He kicked off shoes, trousers and underwear before kneeling up onto it, leaning forward again to brace against the bookshelf.

Crowley hoped that the shelf was up to it, because he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back once they got started, and he knew Aziraphale's strength better than most - the angel would fuss if the shelf came down in the middle of all this.

Breathing deeply, Crowley steeled himself before undoing his own far too tight jeans, which obviously had no room for underwear. He was almost back in control when Aziraphale leaned forward even more, shoved a hand between his thighs and snapped his fingers.

"To ease the way," he said breathlessly. He kept his hand where it was, waving his fingers as if… Crowley bit back a moan. Bastard angel, so impatient. Shuffling forward, Crowley pushed his cock into Aziraphale's waiting hand, and a moan escaped him when the angel's slick fingers closed around his overheated skin.

"Don't be shy," Aziraphale said with a breathy chuckle. "And don't forget the remote."

Crowley bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, for a moment slumping forward, moulding his chest to Aziraphale's back. A snap of his fingers and both their shirts were gone, because he wanted to feel skin and feathers against his overheated corporation.

The slick that Aziraphale had spread on the inside of his thighs and Crowley's cock made him slide forward in the most maddening way. Especially when the angel pressed his thighs together.

Fuck, but he wouldn't last long like this, so he might as well take the angelic bastard with him. He leaned forward and grabbed the remote. "As you wish," he said, aiming for mocking, but coming out far too earnestly.

The remote hit 6 and Aziraphale shook, the shelf creaking under his fingers.

Crowley grinned meanly. Served him right, didn't it? Not that it mattered right now. Shelves, books, reality - none of it mattered. Crowley knew he should probably let up on the grip he had on Aziraphale's hips, he'd be leaving bruises, there was no doubt about it.

Aziraphale flexed his wings, whined and moaned like he was getting a prize for it. Oh, how Crowley wanted to let go of those lovely hips and bury his fingers in the roots of the wings, he'd pull and squeeze, knowing well how sensitive they would be.

But no, the hips were safe, and they offered him a damned fine grip as he followed Aziraphale's moaned demands of 'faster' and 'harder', his thoughts drowning in nothing but lust, while he could feel how the head of his cock hit the underside of Aziraphale's balls, each thrust making the angel shiver and writhe.

Something inside of Crowley, something dark and ugly, raised its head and demanded he take what was so freely offered, grace be damned. Crowley would have thought it harder to silence it, but in the midst of endorphins and his climax spiralling towards an eruption that would put Mount Versurvius to shame, it came easily. In the middle of a lust soaked moment, it was ripped away by a tide of how much Crowley loved this impossible being. This creature who should have been his polar opposite, who loved and wanted him enough in return to try to find a way for this to work.

Crowley slid his arms around Aziraphale's body, bringing him upright, back, shoulders, wings, pressed against Crowley's sweat damp skin. If God was listening, he hoped She understood that he'd never forgive Her if She took Aziraphale away from him.

The shift in position had Aziraphale crying out, head thrown back onto Crowley's shoulder as he came, shuddering in Crowley's arms. Crowley couldn't help himself and bit down into the fleshy bit where Aziraphale's neck and shoulder met, hard enough that he almost drew blood. The whole thought coalesced with the friction, that Aziraphale had squeezed his thighs even harder together and Crowley had no way to hold his climax back, as it snuck up on him and slapped him sideways into another dimension (at least it felt like that) - it was possible he had a moment or two wondering if it had actually managed to discorporate him.

Coming to, he found himself leaning heavily on Aziraphale who seemed to be equally out of breath, the remote nowhere to be found, and no stains on the bookshelves to show for their tryst. However, Crowley felt a certain satisfaction when he realised that while Aziraphale had miracled away the mess, they were still partly dressed and it appealed to something deep in Crowley. The fact that Aziraphale cared about the mess, but didn't give two bits about the state of their clothes. [*]

(* Not that Aziraphale had much left to worry about, standing as he was, in nothing but his socks and garters.)

  


Must've enjoyed himself, then.

Crowley rubbed his face against the root of one wing and was startled when it drew a deep moan from Aziraphale. He'd expected the angel to be as spent as he was.

"Sorry, I'm a little sensitive at the roots," Aziraphale said, leaning his head forward to stretch his neck.

This move left Crowley with the enticing view of Aziraphale's neck and shoulders on display, nothing to hide how much strength lay in that body. He wasn't too proud to think for a moment or two about having Aziraphale pick him up and take him to bed. His mouth went dry at the thought. If the angel would manhandle him, Crowley was well aware that he'd probably just melt and say yes and thank you.

How he wanted to open his mouth and tell Aziraphale what he did to him, but the words curled up and died on his lips. How could he? How could he put perfection like this into words? And how could he thank the angel for his patience but also willingness to push just enough that Crowley would go along with it?

"Thank you," he mumbled instead. It felt inadequate, but it was what he could manage.

It seemed Aziraphale understood him and covered his hand with his own - trapping Crowley's hand against his own chest. And he didn't say anything. Just held onto Crowley while letting Crowley lean on him.

And once again, Crowley turned his thoughts heavenwards. _Don't you dare take him from me, you hear me, God?_

God did not deign him with an answer. She felt that by now Crowley should understand that She wasn't going to. She wouldn't interfere in any way. She'd stopped interfering a long time ago - but She'd watch, and She'd marvel at two of Her creations and how they managed to find their own happiness, regardless of their previous lives.

No, She wouldn't interfere, and She most certainly wouldn't take Aziraphale from Crowley or vice versa.

Quite frankly, She was sure that were She to do so, the other would turn the universe upside down to find Her, to make Her give the other one back.

Pride should not be a thing for Her. She should have been above it - but at that very moment, She looked upon Her creations and felt a glimpse of satisfaction of a job well done.

Well, nearly well done. She'd have to wait and see how far Her principality would go to get what he wanted from the demon. And how he would go about doing so. She wished She could lean down and whisper in his ear, 'baby steps, my dear, baby steps.'

Crowley leaned his head on Aziraphale's shoulder and turned it to the side, so he could watch the slow rise and fall of the wings, as if they were moving to a small breeze only they could feel. So bright and white that they almost lit up the room, almost blinded Crowley, yet he kept staring.

Wasn't his angel a smart cookie? And proving to be a damned fine player in the temptation game. Taking Crowley's worries and pushing at them until Crowley could almost see his own logic falling apart. Still, he hung onto it. It was enough that the small nagging voice in the back of his head kept asking 'but what if he's wrong and falls anyway?'

Crowley felt Aziraphale shift against him. "Everything alright, angel?" Crowley managed to ask, still feeling as if he'd been floating for the past many minutes.

"Absolutely, my dear, but you keep rubbing your fingers against the root of my one wing and it's… a little sensitive."

Crowley raised an eyebrow and realised that he was, indeed, rubbing his thumb against Aziraphale's left wing, right where it disappeared inside the shirt and attached to the shoulder. And that little information weaseled its way inside Crowley's mind and set root.

It would not leave him be, through the evening, as Aziraphale led him to the couch and they curled up together. Crowley always groomed his own wings - a demon wouldn't trust another demon for that kind of thing. And truth be told, the more he saw of Aziraphale's wings, the more details he picked up on. And Aziraphale's wings needed grooming, a lot of it. The question was if Crowley could trust himself to offer it without tipping head first into the risk of forgetting his vow to himself. All his worries.

It was as if he was standing on the verge of his second fall - though this would be ever so sweet.

Crowley shut the thought down as he curled into the safety of Aziraphale's arms, his soft, warm body the perfect place for a snake like Crowley to rest, to bask in the warmth. Closing his eyes he drifted off into a place that wasn't quite sleep, happy to let his guard down seeing as he was so well protected.


	6. Blow your mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley might wonder if Aziraphale is trying to discorporate him. And Aziraphale is flexing his creativity.
> 
> Also, blowjobs involving champagne are messy.

Aziraphale read through some of the ideas that Helena had written down for him. She was rarely as outspoken as Edith was, but Aziraphale was beginning to understand the human saying of still waters running deep.

Crowley would be over this evening and Aziraphale had worked his way through ideas and discarded them just as quickly. The last time had been a success, but he hadn't missed that Crowley had kept a closer eye on his wings than usual. [*]

(* The reader would understand that the angel could not be held responsible for not knowing that it was, by now, only partly due to the fear of him falling that had held Crowley's attention on his wings.)

  


Aziraphale's attention kept returning to a specific point on the list Helena had made for him. He had to smile to himself as he read through the notes that were written in purple ink on pink paper with unicorns on it.

She _had_ asked him not to forget to make his partner feel good as well - to not have every time they had sex being about getting Crowley past the point of his problems. Treat him a little, she'd suggested.

Now, Aziraphale knew that Crowley had been enjoying himself over the past few weeks, but he had to admit that he could lose himself a little once he'd decided which direction he was going in, and he felt she had a point about this. Not to mention, he quite liked the idea of pampering Crowley a little.

The question was if Crowley would let him. Aziraphale had tongued him most of the way to completion but he'd never actually put his mouth on Crowley's cock - and the question was where Crowley saw this compared to old fashioned penetrative sex.

And it was possible that if Crowley was amenable, then it would also be a step in the direction they were already going. If Crowley would allow Aziraphale to put his mouth on him like that, what was the difference between one kind of penetration and another?

Turned out Crowley was amenable, at least after being given a little time to think.

"You're saying that you'd be willing to let me?" Aziraphale asked for the second time in as many minutes, grip on the phone hard enough to make the old thing creak. He winced and loosed his fingers a little.

_"Told you already, angel, as long as you let me see your wings and you stop if I tell you to,"_ Crowley replied again. _"You call the shots, as long as I'm not actively sitting on your face and ramming my cock into your throat."_

"What a colourful way of putting it," Aziraphale said drily, swallowing hard because that mental image did things to him. However, he knew that he wouldn't get Crowley to do anything like that just yet. It seemed that Crowley was still hanging onto the idea that as long as Aziraphale was the one 'doing' things, odds were that Aziraphale wouldn't fall.

Aziraphale had to hand it to him, Crowley found his point of logic and stuck to it like glue - whether it was logic for other people or not.

"And of course I'll stop if you need me to - we spoke of safewords from the beginning," Aziraphale added.

_"I know,"_ Crowley replied and there was something to his voice that made Aziraphale focus hard on it.

"Crowley, please know that I would do anything to keep you safe."

_"I know."_

"Then I'll see you tonight," Aziraphale said quietly. He hadn't let Crowley know exactly what he was planning, but it was important that he knew where Crowley stood on fellatio.

_"Yeah, see you angel…"_ Crowley hesitated at the other end and Aziraphale waited patiently. _"I love you, you know."_

Aziraphale took a deep breath, the words curling around his core, like a snake around a sunwarm rock - right in the middle of his chest, warmth spreading its tendrils out through his body. "I love you too, my dear."

The click as Crowley hung up at the other end made him blink, as if he'd been caught in a haze for a few moments. Which possibly he had. While he frequently professed his love, or had since the Apocalypse hadn't happened, Crowley didn't throw the words around. He showed it plenty often enough in what he did, and specifically what he did for Aziraphale, but he rarely voiced it.

Aziraphale smiled to himself, setting about getting things in order for the evening.

* * *

Crowley stared at his phone, still in his hand, the lock screen reengaged. The picture of a little fat unicorn stared back at him. One he didn't actually remember having set at any point. Sometimes he felt much like his Bentley had developed a mind of her own, so had his phone.

Not that it mattered. His mind was filled with the fact that he'd told Aziraphale that he loved him. The words hadn't so much slipped out accidentally, as they'd slithered out nervously.

But out they had come and of course he knew that the angel wouldn't shoot him down and tell him anything but the same, but there would probably always be a part of him that wondered if that day would come, when Aziraphale would turn to him, shrug and tell him he no longer did.

Crowley shook his head. On days like those, he had to be careful to not follow those thoughts into the downward spiral that they would drag him into. Aziraphale would do no such thing. Six thousand years, and they were still at each other's side. And the angel was a stubborn bastard anyway. Now that he had Crowley, there was little to no risk of him letting him go, unless Crowley sincerely asked for it.

"That'll never happen," Crowley muttered to himself as he put his phone down on his table and leaned back in the high back, gold gilded chair. "Fat chance of that. God, you hear me? Even a second End of the World is not going to get me to let go of him."

God would like to point out She very much hoped not. It had taken six millennia to get them to this point, what would the point of ripping them apart anytime soon be? [*]

(* Soon was a relative thing for God, for any eternal being, really. Soon might as well be within the next six thousand years or sixty.)

  


Fellatio, that was what Aziraphale had suggested. "Blowjob, angel, please, you sound so clinical," Crowley rumbled. Which was actually very much in character and something Crowley hoped he never lost the habit of. 

Not that the angelic bastard couldn't have a filthy mouth on him on occasion, but it was rarely put to use and when it was, Crowley had to admit that it did 'things' to him - he wasn't even sure how to describe those things, but they were above sexual in nature. Possibly because it was out of the ordinary to watch Aziraphale lose his composure and self-control.

Maybe if this ever worked out and Aziraphale proved him wrong, which Crowley dearly hoped he would, Crowley would have a night of drawing every conceivable (and a few inconceivable) filthy words out of the angel's soft, rosy lips.

Crowley shifted in his seat. Perhaps he should take the edge off before he left for Aziraphale's place. Get it out of his system? If he didn't, Aziraphale wouldn't even get as far as putting his mouth on him before it'd be over. Well, first round anyway. The upside to not being human was that refractory period would only be as long as they let it.

Stood to reason that if he could shorten his refractory period, then he could draw it out as well.

Right?

Wrong?

As much as Crowley tried, the more he thought about what Aziraphale would be doing to him later, the more he felt his libido grow, his body acting as if he had no control over it, which was ridiculous. He'd had it for six thousand years, it should know by now to toe the line.

So, it wasn't that Crowley didn't feel in control of his body, but he might as well enjoy some alone time with his right hand. It. Was. Not. A. Control. Issue! 

After the third round, even Crowley had to admit that perhaps he was a little bit wrong on that account.

He was not going to admit as to how many times he'd gotten himself off during the afternoon, but by the time he let himself into the bookstore, he felt fairly sure that he could handle whatever Aziraphale was going to throw at him.

Once again, of course, Crowley was overestimating his own resistance to Aziraphale.

Biting into his fist, Crowley closed his eyes, squeezing them shut.

"Safeword?" Aziraphale's voice was soft as if he hadn't just had his mouth wrapped around Crowley. With a mouth full of chilled champagne. That had been… a bit of a surprise, Crowley had to admit.

"'M good, angel, don't worry," Crowley managed to get out, unclenching his teeth from around his fist only long enough to answer. Stood to reason that someone as hedonistic and fixated on shoving food in his mouth would excel at this as well.

"You'll let me know if you aren't?"

It wasn't really a question, and Crowley felt the enticing tickle in his chest at the demanding tone.

"Yes!" Crowley managed to say, his voice at least an octave and a half above normal, but he didn't care, all he could focus on was the sticky wetness covering his cock and the feel of the cool air hitting it now that Aziraphale's mouth was no longer a warm cocoon around it.

Crowley almost demanded that he get back to what he had been doing, but Aziraphale seemed to be alright with his answer, and bent forward again. His wings flexed and arched over them, extended to cover Crowley in a canopy of white.

And they were. The angel was all but deepthroating him, and his wings were still as white as they had been on the wall of the Garden in the bright sunshine. Had Crowley had the mental capacity he would have marvelled at the fact that it seemed as if Aziraphale might be right, after all.

Because Crowley had to admit that by now, what Aziraphale had been doing to him over the past few weeks, could not be covered by his own logic anymore. He was still going to fight the angel on this, but it would be just as much because it was fun seeing what Aziraphale would come up with in order to prove him wrong.

Although he'd be lying if he claimed the stupid little voice in the back of his head wasn't still there. It was. It simply lost volume every time Crowley bent to Aziraphale's will. Every time Aziraphale took another step to show Crowley that they could have this.

And possibly, for the first time in forever, Crowley wanted nothing more than to be proven wrong.

Aziraphale eyed him for a moment before taking another sip of his champagne, sliding his mouth messily down over Crowley's cock again, the sticky liquid bubbly against his skin, he could feel it running down over his balls and into the crack of his arse.

Before his imagination could gear itself up to anything more, Aziraphale pulled off again, licking his lips.

Once again, the cool air hit Crowley and he tried not to whimper.

The look Aziraphale shot him told him he hadn't been terribly successful.

"What a mess you are, my dear," he said softly, manhandling Crowley by lifting his thighs to expose more of him. And Crowley knew a moment later where this was heading and he knew he'd be incapable of keeping his voice down. It wasn't the first time Aziraphale had rimmed him, and Crowley knew by now that it was one of the few things where he had no self-control.

And he was right once again. As Aziraphale licked him clean, tongue strong and teasing along his balls, Crowley closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn't make a complete fool of himself. So far, he hadn't come from the blowjob alone, but he knew that once Aziraphale buried his face in his arse, Crowley would climax with no form of control whatsoever.

Crowley fought to shut out the sounds that Aziraphale was making as well. The closer the angel got to his goal, the more vocal he became. It was easily ten times as obscene as the sounds a good dessert at the Ritz would draw from him and that was in _public_. The sounds escaping Aziraphale grew from small appreciative moans to indecently wet noises and groans.

Each one reverberated through Crowley, right to his centre. Echoed through passages that had been quiet and undisturbed for millennia. Cobwebs disintegrating, burning as grace and lust set fire to it all.

Crowley let himself be bent nearly in half, sort of wishing that Aziraphale would flip him over like he'd done the last time, because at least that would allow Crowley to bury his face in a pillow and not be able to see his angel's blonde head moving between his legs. Seeing it would absolutely make him come in less than two seconds.

But of course he'd have to be lucky for that, and Aziraphale was not playing along, it seemed. Instead he held Crowley in place like it was no challenge - and indeed, it wouldn't have been. Crowley was well familiar with his angel's physical strength, even if Aziraphale was always careful. [*]

(* Crowley had learned this the first time he'd seen Aziraphale lose his temper, not with him, but with a human, back in the early days. A human who had been horrible to his subjects. Aziraphale would not have been allowed to confront him, but in a fit of anger, he'd pulverized a marble column and Crowley had understood that just because Aziraphale didn't normally use his strength, didn't mean it wasn't there.)

  


Crowley reached above his head and grabbed the headboard. He could feel the brush of air against his, by now, very wet and sensitive arsehole and knew that Aziraphale was amused.

Blasted angel and his talented tongue. Crowley's eyes rolled back in his head, he could feel his demonic powers rushing through his veins. This was always where he felt there was the least of a barrier between this realm and the one that housed his true form.

He wondered if Aziraphale felt the same. Or would, if Crowley were to bring him as much pleasure as Aziraphale was currently giving him. Though judging from the noises escaping the angel, he might as well have been seated, prim and proper, at a table at the Ritz.

Crowley was heaving for breath by the time he came, Aziraphale gentling him into a comfortable position, sweat matting his normally well coiffed hair. He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of the angel meticulously licking most of the sweet stuff off his skin.

For a moment Crowley's worries flared up, but a quick peek reassured him that the wings were still there, still encasing them and still white as freshly fallen snow.

And once again, Aziraphale stayed with him, in bed, while Crowley caught his breath and dozed, drifting in and out of sleep. He loved the sex, but this was even better. The petting, the cuddling and the knowledge that while Aziraphale never slept, he was willing to stay with Crowley while he did.

"You are magnificent," Aziraphale said quietly, running his fingers through Crowley's hair.

Crowley, a little lost for words, buried his face against Aziraphale's neck and let himself enjoy the soft feel of Aziraphale's body against his, the fingers in his hair and the divine smell of them both.

"I keep pushing and you keep letting me - is there nothing you'd like to do, nothing you'd like to try?"

Crowley frowned. Was there? He was enjoying Aziraphale's creativity, was genuinely, by now, enjoying the surprises. And there was no doubt that Aziraphale's patience and tenacity had gotten them farther than Crowley would ever have been able to do.

His stupidly smart bastard of an angel.

So what was he to say? Well, honesty might work. And he'd never lied to the angel before, so now would be a poor time to start. "I like your surprises, your creative ideas," he admitted.

"So I can continue doing so?" Aziraphale's voice raised a little in hope.

"Yes, of course you can, angel. You know I'd ask you to stop if I didn't like what you're doing." And that had gone a long way for Crowley to make him accept Aziraphale's quest to prove that Crowley was wrong and that they could have all this without him falling.

"I know, and I'll find something even better for next time."

Crowley wondered if anything 'better' than what Aziraphale had done to him tonight might just be so good it'd discorporate him.


	7. Feminine Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale has a request and Crowley realizes that perhaps she forgot a thing or two on her list of 'OMG this is too hot to handle'. Not that it's going to keep her from handling it *winkwinknudgenudge*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that hits the f/f part.

Aziraphale hummed as he went over his notes. He'd thought about this long and hard, and the idea just would not leave him. And all it had taken this time was a throwaway comment from Edith. She'd jokingly said that unfortunately they weren't women because while fellatio was definitely a good idea, cunnilingus would be amazing.

But she was wrong, wasn't she? Anyone else, yes, anyone else and they would not be able to do so with a snap of the fingers, but for Crowley and himself it was most certainly a possibility. It had been years since he'd last seen Crowley in a female corporation, and so much longer since he'd donned one of his own.

Before he could stop himself, he'd grabbed the phone and was waiting for Crowley to pick up.

The conversation went surprisingly well.

_"You're saying you want me in a female corporation with all the bells and whistles?"_

"If you do not mind, yes," Aziraphale agreed, nodding even though he knew that Crowley couldn't see him doing so. The more he'd thought about the idea, the more he'd liked it.

_"For you, angel, anything,"_ Crowley said on the other end, sounding no less puzzled though.

"It's just as much for you, my dear," Aziraphale argued. He truly didn't want to think that Crowley was doing this entirely for his sake.

_"Trust me when I tell you, you have done nothing so far that I didn't like."_ At least Crowley sounded sincere. 

"So you'll do it," Aziraphale stated, knowing that once Crowley had decided he was doing something, he was doing something.

_"Yes, said so already, didn't I?"_ Crowley's voice was full of indulgence and if Aziraphale hadn't already been wings over heels in love with him, this would most certainly have tipped the scales.

"I'll see you tonight then." Aziraphale hung up the phone and sat down. He was looking through some of the catalogues that he'd been given by Helena early on, and while he'd skipped over the female clothing section at first, he was now studying it closely.

Most of the leather outfits had no appeal, nor did the silk. Then he turned a page and found the right things. Lovely, sheer camisoles that fell to the top of soft thighs. Long stockings and garter belts.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this, he just knew it, and he hoped that Crowley would as well.

* * *

Crowley wasn't entirely sure what to say about the view that met her when she entered Aziraphale's bedroom. She had, as requested, changed her corporation to female and had asked herself why she didn't do so more often. The change felt good. She liked her male body, but there was something about her female corporation that felt softer, even if she was still tall and angular, but she also felt as if her hips swayed easier when she was like this. Closer to what her snake body wanted to - how it wanted her to move.

Now, Crowley, the fool she knew she was, had not asked Aziraphale what she was planning, mostly because she was looking forward to whatever her angel might be up to. Of all the fantasies she'd spent the afternoon entertaining, in her bed, 'refamiliarizing' herself with the female body, this had not been in there anywhere and she felt that her imagination, normally so vivid, had failed her grandly.

Nowhere on Crowley's list of 'that's a fucking hot thought, let's fantasize about it' was Aziraphale, corporation female, lounging on her bed that had so many pillows it looked like an oppulent cloud. Nor had her imagination stretched far enough to include the flimsy lingerie, allowing Crowley to see more than she'd expected. She'd seen Aziraphale naked, had sex with _him_ several times by now, but the image of her in female form, even softer and curvier than her male one, was almost Crowley's undoing.

"Angel?"

The laid back and soft look on Aziraphale's face dimmed a bit for a moment. "Is this alright?"

"Yes!" Crowley blurted out the word almost before Aziraphale was done talking.

Aziraphale blinked, eyes wide with surprise. Then she nodded. "Good, glad to hear." She seemed to relax some. "Now, please undress and come join me."

Crowley felt clumsier than she'd ever done before, her fingers felt thicker and her hands seemed to be shaking, and no matter what she did, she had no control over it.

It was an entirely new situation for her and while it was jarring, she was also quite intrigued by it.

"Ah, that is lovely," Aziraphale breathed, her cheeks flushed, and eyes heavy lidded as she watched Crowley undress. Crowley would be lying if she claimed she hadn't aimed for taking her angel's breath away. And judging by the breathiness, she was absolutely managing.

"All of it, angel?" Crowley managed to ask as she let her black dress fall to the floor, leaving her standing in her own lingerie - black lace with red underpants and garterbelts.

"Oh, goodness, no," Aziraphale said, licking her lips. "Please leave that lovely getup on for now."

Crowley smirked and crawled slowly and seductively up the bed. She could do this. After last time, this would be far lower on the scale of sins that could make Aziraphale fall. [*]

(* Crowley, while a demon and through this should have known exactly how to define sin, had her less than clear moments...)

  


"I had plans," Aziraphale said loftily, "but I have to admit you very firmly managed to derail them - or at least delay them."

Crowley wanted to say "good", but before she could, she was pulled down for a kiss. The lips were different, but still Aziraphale, the pressure of her soft breasts felt so right, and her scent was even stronger than usually. Still the old books, old paper and ink, and that undertone of spun sugar that Crowley had never managed to figure out where it came from.

Not that she cared. As long as she was allowed to breathe it in.

And she could, couldn't she? Could chase it from the point where Aziraphale's neck and shoulder met, to the dip at the collarbone, to the valley between those lovely breasts. And the scent got stronger, more enticing. 

The more she moved downwards over the swell of abdomen, the more the scent teased her.

"Ah, dear, not just yet, if you don't mind?" Aziraphale's voice was soft, but nowhere near insecure. There was iron under that velvet and it made Crowley's body tighten pleasantly, made her fill her lungs with the sweetest air.

Crowley lifted her head and licked her lips, watched Aziraphale smile openly and with joy and she wondered why they hadn't done this before. Maybe because she'd expected Aziraphale to be set in her ways and not interested in trying it.

How lovely to be proven wrong.

Aziraphale slid down the bed a little, urging Crowley upward, and the demon realised exactly what she wanted a moment later.

"Angel, really?" she asked, caught between surprise and a lewd come on.

Mostly surprise, though. Perhaps she should have seen it coming, seeing as she would be doing all the work tonight it seemed. Her pillow princess… or rather, pillow principality, perhaps? Oh, she should remember to use…

Aziraphale, strength ever a hidden pleasure, dug her fingers into Crowley's arse cheeks and hauled her forward. The move made Crowley fall forward a little, catching herself on the headboard.

"Yes, really," Aziraphale muttered, pressing her nose against the damp swell of Crowley's silken pants.

"Okay," Crowley tried to say, though it came out more of a squeak than a tangible word.

How the hell could it feel like the heat of a thousand suns were partying in her underwear simply from being breathed on? They'd done plenty more carnal acts the past few weeks, and yet… yet, this was new territory, wasn't it? For both of them to some extent. While Crowley had often enough chosen female form, she hadn't ever let anyone have their way with her with the kind of freedom she afforded her angel.

Everything and anything, she would let her do anything to her. Crowley should have, perhaps, been worried that she would give such power to anyone, especially an angel of Heaven. But that was just the point, wasn't it? Aziraphale was just as much Crowley's as Crowley was hers.

Trying not to squirm and press down against Aziraphale's face, Crowley bit her lower lip and tried to breathe somewhere in the vicinity of normal.

It wasn't working particularly well for her, though. And Aziraphale wasn't helping at all, her tongue rasping over the silk, making it more wet than just damp, sucking on it, making the most obscene noises, like she was dining at the fanciest restaurant in Paris.

Crepes. It was the same noise that Aziraphale had made when he'd had crepes in Paris.

"What are you thinking about?" Aziraphale's voice was low and husky.

"Paris." Crowley's reply was more Pavlovian than logical.

"Paris? I must be doing it wrong then," Aziraphale mumbled. A little worry in her voice.

"Angel, no, you're doing it exactly right," Crowley managed to get out, whimpering when Aziraphale let go of one cheek to pull lightly at the underpants, pulling them aside just enough to bury her mouth against Crowley's heated and wet flesh.

Yes, okay, her angel was a bastard of epic proportions, and while she was perhaps new to a female corporation, she most certainly knew what she was doing.

Crowley lost herself in the pleasure as Aziraphale's clever tongue rubbed against her clit before slipping inside her, unexpectedly strong and the surprise made her gasp out loud. Which only made Aziraphale double her effort as well as digging her fingers harder into the one arse cheek she still had a hold on. Had Crowley been human, she suspected she'd have some rather stunning bruises in the morning.

She was holding onto the headboard with enough force to make it creak, but she didn't care. If the old, sturdy oak splintered and broke, who cared? She was astride Aziraphale's head, her angel drawing the most surreal noises from her and, for once in her life, Crowley didn't give a damn if half the world, Heaven and Hell included, heard her. It would fit, let the bastards know that the one who could wring such sounds of pleasure from the original Tempter of Eden was one of Her own principalities. [*]

(* God was rather chuffed, not to mention impressed as well. She'd witnessed Crowley use their** skills to tempt humans into sins of every kind, but She'd also seen them get bored so fast with their targets. She was glad to see that no matter the corporation, Her principality was more than ready to rise to the occasion - She'd say 'excuse the pun' but God would never apologize for a pun. Why should She?)  
(** God reverted to 'they' here because She'd seen Crowley in every perceivable gender through the ages. And Crowley had been skilled no matter the corporation - even a memorable situation where they'd been half snake half human and a hermaphrodite.)

  


Shaking, Crowley felt her lower body tight as a bowstring, her clit felt like it was on fire and yet all she could do was press closer as Aziraphale changed tactics, sucking on her, gently rubbing the edge of her teeth against it and overall pushing Crowley over the edge of pleasure before she was fully ready for it.

Now, Crowley might have expected the angel to push her away once she came, but Aziraphale just kept running her tongue between the folds of Crowley's vulva and aiding the crest of her climax, keeping her riding on an almost painful edge.

"Angel, enough, please," Crowley finally cried out, her eyes wet with tears and her underwear in an unspeakable state. Her thighs shook as she tried to pull away, her chest constricted, attempting to draw in air.

"Careful, dear," Aziraphale told her, gently helping her move down the bed, letting her fall against her own ample body to catch her breath and bearings. Shifting enough to lie partly on her side, Aziraphale let her wings unfold, and they rustled comfortingly on either side of them.

"Angel," Crowley muttered, feeling utterly destroyed as she pressed her mouth against Aziraphale's neck, her body moulding to Aziraphale's curves.

"Yes, my dear?"

Crowley closed her eyes and took a deep breath, filling her nose with the scent of sex and angel. She wanted to lift her head and look at Aziraphale, but she _knew_ the angel was licking her lips, savouring her taste still and looking would break Crowley, would tear her from her (im)mortal coil, so to speak.

Didn't mean she wasn't tempted. It rolled deep in her gut, made her squirm, feeling exactly what the angel had done to her. Such a skilled tongue, indeed. *

(* Just never ask her to speak French. Her french was atrocious.)

  


Crowley realised that Aziraphale was waiting for her to carry on. "If this wasn't what you had in mind, I think if you have further plans you might just kill me."

"Nonsense, my dear, you are made of sterner stuff."

"Ngk," Crowley couldn't manage much more than that. Aziraphale always seemed to think that Crowley was in control when in fact she was most certainly not.

"But take a moment to catch your breath my love," Aziraphale carried on. "You'll need it." her tone was laced with such innocence, that it set off all Crowley's alarm bells.

Her angel was many things, innocent was most certainly not one of them.

"I felt perhaps you would pay me back in kind," Aziraphale continued, voice still soft and lovely, and the epitome of evil if anyone asked Crowley. The sweeter the angel, the greater the challenge. [*]

(* Crowley would, at a later date, set up a redbubble shop with cheesy one liners like this.)

  


And the harder the fall for Crowley - which she was very much looking forward to, if she was being honest. By now, she really just wanted to take whatever Aziraphale would throw at her. Yes, the angel was probably right, even if Crowley still appreciated that she would take her white wings out and let her see for herself that she had not fallen and would not fall. Yes, by now she wanted to see how creative her angel would get.

Crowley opened her eyes, turned her head and placed her hand on Aziraphale's hip, her long fingers spidery against the soft flesh. Her painted nails were a stark contrast to the creamy white underwear that Aziraphale was wearing. Not jarringly so, but a lovely eye-catching dark red, almost black.

Aziraphale made an encouraging noise.

Crowley traced the fine stitching of the lacy underwear and watched as well as felt how Aziraphale breathed deeper, obviously to keep her wits about her. It felt good to know that as much as Aziraphale had taken Crowley apart, she could undo the angel just as easily.

If she didn't burst from wanting everything before then, of course.

The white lace front was almost see through and Crowley licked her lips as she slipped the tip of one finger under the edge. The lace itself bore intricate markings of white birds, probably doves, and while they covered the angel's modesty, there was no mistaking the darkening stain where lace gave way to silk at the seat of the underpants.

Crowley slid her finger from the edge and teasingly ran it down over the swell of barely-covered flesh, feeling the damp cloth dragging at her skin. Her mouth watered at the thought, knowing that the angel wanted her to reciprocate, meaning she'd soon enough be allowed to put her mouth where she was currently teasing with the edge of a fingernail.

"Crowley…" Aziraphale's voice was barely audible, whisper-thin and soft. Not a request to hurry up or move forwards, but spoken much in the way a benediction would be.

Crowley swallowed hard. She wanted nothing more than to dive into the paradise between Aziraphale's thighs, to bury her face in her own garden of eden, a place of worship and virility, of beauty and heady sensation. But she wouldn't. Not just yet. Her angel deserved better than Crowley going straight for the core of pleasure right off. Besides, Crowley had had her edge taken off, surely she could manage to pace herself, to draw it out and give Aziraphale all the pleasure she deserved.

At least she thought she might be able to manage. Her body felt taut with the knowledge of what she would soon be doing, what Aziraphale had done to her a few moments ago. The pleasure that had coursed through her body and ripped her out of the very firmament in its tempestuous arms.

Her angel, the force to be reckoned with, the temptation of the tempter.

Crowley rubbed her index finger against the wet patch and revelled in the sigh this elicited from Aziraphale. She lifted her hand and her tongue slipped out to taste the tip of her finger. Underneath the taste of garment was the most magnificent aphrodisiac imaginable.

If she could bottle it she would never sell it, but always use it for her own pleasure. Musky and almost sweet, like her angel was. Like her angel liked her desserts, tooth-rotting sweet and moan-inspiringly good. Crowley did not have a sweet tooth in the same way, but she knew the kind of scent and taste that would make the human brain fire the right neurons, and she knew that what she'd just tasted worked on her in much the same way.

Running her finger over the same spot again, making Aziraphale sigh and squirm, Crowley let her tongue change into its more natural shape and composition; taking in the taste and smell the same way a serpent's tongue would. 

It took all her self-control to not rip the knickers off the angel and bury her face between her legs and never come back out.

"Crowley?"

Crowley realised she'd frozen, the tip of her forked tongue still flickering against her finger. She lifted her head to look Aziraphale in the eyes and found her watching with an eyebrow cocked.

And hunger. Hell's whatever, did she look like she wanted to devour Crowley and her gaze was glued to Crowley's mouth.

No, not her mouth, her tongue.

Ah.

Wow. Okay, Crowley could work with this, if she didn't discorporate from want before she managed to do anything.

"Do you mind?" she managed to ask, not even near innocent - hell, innocence was several postcodes over.

"My dear serpent, your tongue is part of who you are, like your eyes, and I love all of it." She paused and swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple, her upper lip damp with it as well. "I would love for you to put that to good use."

Crowley raised an eyebrow and then nodded. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, and she'd rarely allowed herself to consider how much of her serpent side she could let slip when around the angel.

She should have known that Aziraphale would welcome it. She'd told her often enough that she'd love for her to leave her shades off because she liked the eyes. Of course, amber eyes were one thing, having Crowley's agile, longer-than-normal and forked tongue in intimate places was a different matter.

Crowley decided she could let go a little. Making sure she had Aziraphale's eyes on her own, she all but slithered down the bed, rubbing her body against the angel's, her own bra soft against skin, her breasts sensitive as she moved down Aziraphale's body, making herself comfortable between her thighs.

She fit. So well. As if the valley of those thighs had been crafted in the dawn of time with one specific goal: to cradle a serpent with carnal intentions.

Crowley pushed a shoulder under one knee and made herself at home. She let her control slip for a moment and leaned forward, pushing her face against the damp swell under the underwear, breathing in deeply.

Yes, this was where she was meant to be - encased in the soft warmth of fleshy thighs and with her face uncouthly buried in the enticing wetness of Aziraphale's sex. Although she could hardly wait to remove the barrier of the underwear, she also wanted the barely there barrier to keep her from that last bit of heaven.

It would be interesting for herself to see for how long she could keep it up and if nothing else, Crowley loved a challenge, especially one where she knew Aziraphale would be both happy with the outcome and happy with her self-imposed control.

And Crowley was going to make sure that her angel would be more than satisfied.

Nuzzling against the soaked patch of cloth, Crowley wondered to herself how she'd even gotten to this point. Sure, they'd had sex and she'd been adamant that they be careful, to keep her angel from falling. And the stubborn bastard, instead of just rolling with it and taking what she was offering, had decided to chip away at Crowley's determination and logic. Well, perhaps it had been more superstition and paranoia than logic, even Crowley could admit to this.

Taking a deep breath, she flickered the tip of her forked tongue out, taking in the entire spectrum of taste and sound in full HD, surround sound and technicolor.

Right, screw self-control, Crowley wanted those panties off and out of the way. Displaying enough self-control to not rip them off, she slipped one long finger along the seam, lifting it enough to fill her senses with the potent scent.

"You don't have to hold back, you know," Aziraphale said sweetly from somewhere above.

"Don't rush me, angel, you never really put on a female corporation in my presence before," Crowley hushed her. "And most certainly never _for_ me."

"I very much appreciate you taking delight in my change," Aziraphale said, her voice wobbling a little.

"Were you worried?" Crowley tore her attention from the treasure in front of her nose. In no world could she fathom Aziraphale thinking she could do something that Crowley wouldn't like. Well, there might be some things, but they wouldn't be Aziraphale things anyway.

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment and Crowley waited for her to carry on. She could rant and rail at Aziraphale's feelings of inadequacy - the ones that Heaven's influence through millennia had left behind — but she also knew that it rarely got her anywhere. Her angel had to work her way through those in her own time and her own speed. Even if Crowley wished she could wave her hand, snap her fingers and make the problem go away.

It had never worked that way, though, and she knew that even if it had, it would never be a long term solution. It _was_ better to let Aziraphale get to the point even via her roundabout ways.

Aziraphale reached down and ran soft fingers through Crowley's hair. "I wasn't sure what to expect, but I _had_ hoped it would appeal to you."

"Angel, that's a damn understatement," Crowley said, leaning into the touch for a moment. "Will you let me show you just how much?" She dared ask now, she dared offer, didn't she? Her worries weren't gone, but the more they did, the more she could see her angel not falling with any act they did, the more they dwindled.

"Oh, I would be delighted for you to do so," Aziraphale said, a small hiccup in her voice.

"I'm glad to hear, now please, lie back my pillow princess - or should I say pillow principality?" Crowley grinned, feeling almost giddy.

"You fiend, you," Aziraphale replied, laughter bubbling under her mock ire.

"You like it," Crowley growled, turning her attention back to what she'd been doing. "Now let me do this right, okay?"

"Whatever you like, my love," Aziraphale replied softly, tugging on a strand of Crowley's hair before letting go and doing as she had been told.

Oh, now if that wasn't a loaded request. Whatever Crowley liked. Well, for now Crowley really wanted to have a taste and why should she deny herself when she had such a lovely gilded invitation?

Pulling the seam aside, she inhaled long and hard. Yes, yes, very lovely. Taking a good long look, she watched the curly hair artfully covering her angel's effort. A little darker blonde than the fluffy white on Aziraphale's head, but ever so lovely still.

Deciding that she needed more room, she gently lifted the panties down over the curvy hips and down rounded thighs and calves, slowly to fully enjoy the journey.

"Aw, angel, all for me," she mumbled, before leaning in and pressing her nose to the now bared swell of the venus mountain.

The curly pubic hairs tickled a little, but the scent was even better now, no clothes to deny her full access. She leaned in and pressed her lips chastely to the slick labia and as she pulled back again, allowed the tip of her tongue to run along her lips, taking in the taste, finally.

Why yes, she may not eat often or much, unlike her angel who revelled in the variety of foods in the world, but this taste made her hunger grow, the one in the pit of her stomach, the one that sent tendrils of pure heat through her body, urging her to take-take-take and savour it.

It was, after all, given freely. Encouraged even.

Gently, Crowley reached up and rubbed her thumb along the slit, enjoying the viscous feel of slick against her skin, pulling it back a moment later to lick it clean. She smiled to herself but didn't look up, even as she heard the small moan escaping Aziraphale.

Pressing the pad of her thumb against the fold, she hesitated for a moment. She would most certainly be breaching Aziraphale's body this time, she would be the one doing it, not the other way around. Last shreds of fear and all her what-ifs. They all ghosted past her, but she wanted to believe Aziraphale, wanted to make her feel good the way she'd made Crowley feel good every time they had been intimate.

Taking a deep breath, letting her senses fill with the scent of her angel, plugging her ears with the sound of rustling feathers and soft gasps, she pushed her thumb against the fold and felt how easily it slipped inside, carefully not touching Aziraphale's clit to prolong things for as long as possible. She was fairly sure that she heard a muttered 'bastard' under her angel's breath, and it only made her smile even more.

She was taking a great delight in this, and she was going to make it last.

Angling her hand just right, Crowley slipped her thumb along the heated path until the unmistakable dip in the body told her she was exactly where she needed to be.

"Alright, angel?"

"Goodness, yes, Crowley, please, don't tease too much," Aziraphale gasped.

Not too much. That didn't mean no teasing.

"Define 'too much' Aziraphale," Crowley said, because she needed to know how far she could push it.

Aziraphale was quiet and Crowley finally looked up to meet her darkened eyes.

"Ah," Crowley said, feeling like she'd been punched in the gut by that look. This gave her free reign, didn't it? Because that look was more or less asking her to take it to the brink and beyond if she felt like it. The request hadn't been a request as such. Or rather it had, hadn't it? But a request for the opposite, if Crowley was right.

"Angel, you have to tell me no if it's needed."

"I have taken my pleasure from your body so many times, my dear, I am, as one would say, all yours."

"Dealer's choice," Crowley muttered to herself before nodding. She could do this. If she'd been as evil as she probably should have been as a demon, she would have taken this as permission to take it well past what would be pleasure for anyone, but she loved Aziraphale and she would make sure that her angel would enjoy it every bit as she would herself.

Still didn't mean she couldn't be a tease.

"Hang on to your halo, angel," Crowley said, covering her happiness with a quip. [*]

(* Also available in the aforementioned redbubble shop on totes and t-shirts.)

  


"Do your worst, demon," Aziraphale said, obviously aiming for taunting, but only managing breathless.

Crowley smirked and slipped her long manicured finger inside, right to the root just because she wanted to get a reaction. And she got just that, Aziraphale shaking under her, thighs trembling with the strain of not pressing together in surprise.

Pulling out, she took more care and slipped two fingers in, so easily a passage, slick and welcoming. And hot as Hellfire, it seemed. Crowley finally leaned in and ran her tongue along the fold, around the roots of her fingers where they disappeared inside Aziraphale's body.

The sounds escaping Aziraphale were magnificent and spurred Crowley on. The breathy gasps and small moans, the heavy breathing that filled her ears.

Nothing had ever sounded so good to her. Heaven's angelic choirs had nothing on this [*]

(* God would like to point out that Heavenly choirs were a human invention, a fantasy. Angels had good voices, but their choice in music would be considered questionable on most days by most people, and on all days by God.)

  


Crowley pushed her face closer and the tip of her tongue in between her two fingers. A human might have felt the strain in this, but Crowley's tongue was one of the few things from her serpent days that had stayed, no matter her choice of vessel - her tongue and her eyes.

And at this very moment, she was using the strength of the former to press forward, hearing the small gasp from Aziraphale turn to a moan that sent vibrations through her body and right into Crowley's mouth, each and every one of them a tremor against her sensitive tongue, the sensation tied to her nipples, to her clit, making her very core ache with it.

But she wouldn't touch. Wouldn't give in. She'd had the time of the night riding Aziraphale's face earlier, it was time to repay it tenfold.

And repay it tenfold she would. Crowley put her free arm across Aziraphale's abdomen and held her down as she worked fingers and tongue in and out, making sure to rub and repeat whatever got her the loudest reactions.

Crowley felt how Aziraphale suddenly stilled, then started shaking, whimpering, grabbing at Crowley's hair, arching to push her closer.

Encouraged, Crowley worked her tongue harder, her fingers as well and was rewarded with a shriek and several moans and a facefull of liquid as she pulled her fingers out. Blinking in surprise, she licked her lips and grinned.

Hit the right spot then. She returned her attention to Aziraphale, carefully gentling her touches, pressing and rolling the pads of her fingers against Aziraphale's clit, watching the liquid soaking through the thin lacy top that her angel was wearing.

"You went all out, didn't you, angel?"

No tangible words reached her and Crowley quickly checked the rustling wings, splayed to the sides as if they had ridden the highest winds for too long and needed rest.

Still pristine white, where they lay, fine tremors making the feathers rustle.

Crowley slid up along her body, her left hand between Aziraphale's thighs, fingers gentling her orgasm.

"Enough, please," Aziraphale finally managed to get out, her face red and sweat beading on her upper lip, her cheeks, her forehead, tears staining her eyes.

Crowley did as she was asked, resting her hand on Aziraphale's belly instead, feeling her angel heaving for breath, still shaking from it all.

Aziraphale, hands shaking, made a grab for her and pulled her close, her ample bosom, Crowley decided, was the best place in the world to rest.

"I hadn't imagined," Aziraphale muttered, pressing her lips to Crowley's temple. "I had never imagined it could be like that."

"Read about it, did you?" Crowley said, only partly joking. She knew her friend well enough that the internet was unknown, but anything could be researched in printed books.

No answer was forthcoming and Crowley lifted her head, looking down at Aziraphale's face. The red spots on her cheeks were not from the exertion alone anymore.

"Angel?" Crowley wondered if she should be worried, or even worse; jealous? Had Aziraphale been out doing this with others? Six thousand years had been a long time after all, but Crowley had thought that having her angel have a female corporation was something new…

"Do you remember the adult store next door?" Aziraphale said softly.

"Yeah, the one you've been in constant war with since it opened?"

"Well, constant and constant," Aziraphale muttered. "I may have had my misconceptions and the two women running it are absolutely lovely - and they pride themselves in being very open around educating the masses when it comes to…"

"Sex?" Crowley guessed.

"Yes, and they apparently do not mind sharing quite intimate details," Aziraphale's face was beginning to liken the colour of a tomato.

"The afternoons when you tell me you're elsewhere engaged, you spend with them, don't you? Talking sex!" Crowley shut her mouth, but the words were out. She'd wondered once or twice where the angel went when she'd begged off going out for late lunch or dinners.

"I find it rather informative," Aziraphale said, her voice tilting into defensive territory.

"Oh, angel," Crowley purred, leaning down to kiss Aziraphale's cheek, "I'm not blaming you for anything, and if they are the reason for your creativity lately, even less so." Quite honestly, Crowley wanted to meet those women, because anyone who could get Aziraphale to sit down and talk sex over tea and scones would have to be quite formidable.

"Hush you, fiend," Aziraphale replied, her cheeks flushing darker again, but undeniably trying to hide her smile.

The white wings curved around them and Crowley nestled closer to Aziraphale, resting her head on her shoulder, bending her leg and putting it across Aziraphale's thighs and curving one hand just under Aziraphale's right breast. Just because it was so nice and plump like the rest of her angel. Cushy and inviting.[*]

(* Crowley was well aware of the strength residing in that vessel, male or female, but there was something in the curve of Aziraphale's breasts that begged to be cradled and, perhaps, squeezed a little. )

  


"Your ideas keep getting better and better," Crowley muttered, closing her eyes and inhaling the sweet scent of sex and the familiar scent of Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale didn't answer, simply hummed contentedly, rubbing a hand up and down Crowley's flank, breathing deep and relaxed.


	8. A Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we deviate from the horizontal mambo for a while and go for a bit to eat and a cup of coffee - or tea - if that's your poison of choice ;)

"Still doing well with your partner?" Helena sat down on the couch and handed over the cup of tea she'd made for him.

Aziraphale nodded. "I do think we are both learning things."

"You don't seem surprised," she said with a quirk of the mouth. "Many people who set out to help a partner think they already know everything."

"Oh, goodness," Aziraphale said, a laugh bursting out and he steadied his cup. "I have been around for long enough to know that when the time comes and you think you know everything, you most certainly know nothing at all."

He might not keep up with modern trends, like Crowley did, but he'd seen enough of the world to know that if he truly thought he could learn no more, about himself as well, then he would have lost and Armageddon might as well roll out again, because life would not be worth living.

"No, see, that's a good attitude for anyone to have," Helena agreed. She shifted on the couch as Edith joined her, a cup of coffee in her own hand.

Aziraphale nodded, and thought back to how it had been to curl up with Crowley in bed after their last night together. Realising that the female form had been not just interesting to don for the night, but perhaps he would have to try it again at some point, for an ordinary day. The way the body was built slightly different, different centre of gravity and such, had been interesting enough. It was the pleasure, though, that had been the biggest surprise. Aziraphale wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it had by far been exceeded.

"So, are you looking for more ideas or is this actually just friends hanging out?" Edith asked with a grin. "Not that we mind, but it's beginning to feel a little odd knowing so much about your friend without having met him."

"Well, Crowley did express interest in meeting you as well," Aziraphale admitted. He hadn't been overly surprised when Crowley had mentioned it as she'd left the next morning. Crowley had always been very keen on interesting people. And she seemed to consider anyone gaining Aziraphale's friendship to fit that bill.

"Well, bring him over when you feel ready for it," Helena said, taking a sip of her own cup. "He sounds lovely."

Aziraphale nearly choked on his tea. Lovely was perhaps not how Crowley wanted to be called, even if Aziraphale wholeheartedly agreed. "Perhaps don't call him that to his face," he mumbled. "Nice should probably also be avoided."

"A bit of a bad boy?" Edith asked curiously.

"More... " Aziraphale wondered how much to share, what would be a breach of trust. "Let us just say that his family was never what you or I would consider loving or supportive." When one thought about it, neither had Heaven, and Aziraphale would be the first one to admit this. Neither of their sides had ever truly been good at supporting them - and perhaps that was why they had found each other’s company so very enticing.

"Family can be the best in the world, and the worst," Edith agreed. "Well, as Helena said, bring him over when you both feel ready to."

"Thank you - you have both been such a great help in leading me through this," Aziraphale admitted, taking a biscuit when it was offered.

"Rubbish, we're just here with an open ear when you need it, you're doing all the hard work," Helena said straight-faced, though the strangled cough from Edith didn't escape Aziraphale's attention.

Young people - they did make him remember to be on his toes. They were smart and while they were very focused on privacy they obviously weren't stupid, and letting slip what he and Crowley were could possibly put them in danger from Heaven or Hell. Or both.

"So, business or pleasure?" Edith said with a grin.

"The pleasure of your company, miladies," Aziraphale said primly, only because he loved the laughter this would draw from the two women. And he wasn't disappointed.

While he spent the evening in good company, he was plotting as well. Well, perhaps that term sounded a tad too sinister for what he was really doing. Pondering his options, more like it.

Seeing as Aziraphale didn't sleep, he spent the night contemplating if perhaps he could take the next step. And if Crowley argued against it, which Aziraphale wasn't sure if he would or not, then he'd have to tread carefully. It wouldn’t be a matter of convincing Crowley, but more to test the waters after their last round of sex.

Morning light came around and Aziraphale checked the time, knowing full well that Crowley often slept at night. It fascinated Aziraphale a little. It wasn't that he didn't rest himself, especially when he had Crowley in his bed. The last couple of times when they had had sex and Crowley had curled up in bed with him, Aziraphale had to admit it had been nice to just lie there and bask in the other's presence.

He'd never taken to sleep the way Crowley had, but where he'd tried in the past, his mind would always be too loud, his thoughts clamoring for attention. With Crowley close and most often wrapped around him, the thoughts had grown quiet. It didn't mean he'd slept much, just enjoyed the time and closeness and the quiet.

_"Good morning, angel."_ Crowley's voice greeted him from the other end of the phone. He sounded remarkably awake.

"I wasn't sure if you were up, my dear, I hope I didn't wake you," Aziraphale managed, his mind supplying him with the most lovely images of what Crowley looked like in the mornings.

Crowley chuckled and Aziraphale could just imagine it. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the thin mouth quirking up into an unrepentant grin. 

_"You know how the humans say that when someone talks or thinks about them, their ears ring or itch or whatever? "_

"Yes, I'm familiar with it," Aziraphale replied, wondering where Crowley was going with this.

_"I could have sworn you must have thought long and… hard about me last night, because my right ear itched terribly."_

"You fiend, you," Aziraphale said, trying not to laugh. "But yes, I did contemplate our next time, though first, how does lunch at the little diner around the corner from your building sound?" It wasn't all about spending their time together having sex, and Aziraphale quite felt that he'd like to just have lunch with his friend.

_"The one with the good coffee, yes?"_

"Well, you called it adequate, which tends to be glowing praise from you," Aziraphale agreed.

_"Definitely - and are you going to tell me what you have planned for next time?"_

Aziraphale was happy that he detected nothing in the way of worry in Crowley's voice. Nothing but curiosity and, dared he hope, perhaps a little excitement?

Promising.

"I have a suggestion, Crowley, that is all. Planning will not go forward until you agree to it," Aziraphale promised.

_"And are you going to share that suggestion with me before or after lunch?"_

"After, I believe," Aziraphale replied, trying not to linger too much on the fact that they were basically negotiating sex.

_"Well, colour me intrigued, angel - do I pick you up at noon or do we meet there?"_

"I feel a walk would do me well, my dear, so I'll meet you there at noon."

_"Deal, see you then, angel."_

Aziraphale didn't put the phone down even when he heard the disconnect at the other end. He tightened his grip on it for a moment, hearing the old thing creak, before loosening his hold on it again, to put it back in its cradle.

God, how he hoped he was right and that he wasn't moving too fast. [*]

(* Had God answered him, She'd have told him to trust in himself and in Crowley, but She'd made the choice of not interfering for millennia and She wasn't going to break that choice simply to bolster Her angel's confidence. He'd get there eventually.)

  


* * *

Lunch was… as lunch often was, a nice affair, even if Aziraphale could tell that Crowley was burning to ask.

If he'd had it in him to do so, he might have dragged it out a bit, because being the centre of Crowley's attention like this was a heady experience.

But as much as he could be a bastard, he wouldn't do this to Crowley. So he finished his lunch and ordered himself a cup of tea - and Crowley another coffee.

"You look about to burst, my dear." Aziraphale added the milk to his tea and stirred it. "Please know that you can say no, if you wish to, and that if you say yes, and then feel overwhelmed you have your…"

"Safeword, I know angel, I know." Crowley waved his hand as if to wipe Aziraphale's words away.

"I mean it, Crowley - if you feel out of your depth, you use it." Aziraphale kept his voice steely.

Crowley stilled, his sunglasses pushed down to allow him to look unhindered. And in turn it allowed Aziraphale to see his eyes.

Aziraphale had been about to make his request to Crowley, but fell silent. As if he'd been punched in the gut, the air knocked out of his lungs. The amber eyes, those lovely eyes, were full of want. Every time they had been together, had sex, Aziraphale knew he'd seen more of it, had seen it burn brighter. He might not be able to feel lust, but he could see it, could recognize it and acknowledge its expansion.

Good Lord[*], he thought to himself. He had to tread carefully. At this very point, he was fairly sure that Crowley wouldn't say no to anything - whether he was ready for it or not.

(* She didn't mind him taking Her name in vain. Never had, that had been a human invention as well.)

  


Reaching across the small table, he took Crowley's hand. He felt breathless at the way Crowley's long, elegant fingers curled around his, the way the demon's breath seemed to hitch.

"Crowley, would you…"

"Yes."

Aziraphale let out a helpless laugh. "Crowley, my dear, please let me finish."

Crowley looked a little sheepish and a lot rebellious and _oh_ how Aziraphale loved him even more, if such a thing was even possible.

"If by Friday night you feel you are amenable, I would like to come over to your place, and I would like for you to have me. I'd like for you to do to me what I have done to you, if you feel you can do it."

"Exactly what you've done or…"

"No, but…" Aziraphale looked for the right words for a moment. It all seemed so lewd when spoken out loud. Penetration was such a… no. And top and bottom never quite appealed to him. Humans tampered with the definitions and meanings too often.

"You want me to bugger you, angel?" Crowley had put on his best poker face. "Play hide the sausage…"

"Crowley! Really, there's no reason to bring food into this…" 

"Angel," Crowley squeezed his hand. "Aziraphale," he amended, taking his glasses off and dropping them unceremoniously on the table. "If that's what you want me to do, as long as you keep your wings out…" He looked a little dissatisfied with himself for a moment.

"I'd be happy to," Aziraphale said quickly.

He'd quite grown to enjoy the way Crowley would watch his wings when it wasn't out of worry. He almost added that he'd be happy if Crowley wanted to touch them. They had sex, talked about it, yes, but touching each other's wings still seemed like a bit of an obstacle. Perhaps this was why he'd so readily brought them out when Crowley had asked.

In the hope that Crowley would touch them.

Looking off to the side for a moment, to catch his bearings, Aziraphale had the perfect view of the entrance of the diner. Where a familiar figure walked through.

Helena, never one to intrude, waved at him when she caught sight of him and Aziraphale couldn't help but wave back and smile.

Of course his diverted attention wasn't lost on Crowley, who turned his head and honed in on the human, watching her walk towards the till. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale before putting his shades back on. No reason to scare the woman.

Aziraphale took it as encouragement and when she next looked at them, he waved her over. It would only be the proper thing to do.

"I didn't know you made your rounds in this neighbourhood as well, Aziraphale," Helena said, greeting him with a wide smile.

"Crowley lives nearby," Aziraphale said, gesturing to Crowley. "Helena, Crowley, Crowley, this is Helena. She and Edith run the store next door to the bookshop."

"That store," Crowley said with a smirk. "Yes, the one you had a long war going with. Good to meet you, Helena."

"Just a misunderstanding," Aziraphale said with a huff.

"It really was," Helena agreed, nodding. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Do you want to join us?" Aziraphale offered out of courtesy.

She gave him a shrewd look then shook her head. "Nah, I'm just picking something up that Edith had a hankering for. But while I remember it, thank you for that lovely bottle of wine on our doorstep the other day - you could have come in."

"I'm sorry, dear, I did not…" he cut himself off. He'd mentioned to Crowley that Helena and Edith had both had a hand in being his soundboard. And if he knew Crowley as well as he did… Turning his head, he raised an eyebrow at Crowley who was once again sitting on the chair as if proper posture was a foreign concept.

Helena, obviously catching on, turned and looked at Crowley.

"Aziraphale mentioned that you had… helped him, so why not?" He held up a finger and pointed at Aziraphale in warning. "And if you call me 'nice' again, angel, let me remind you what happened the last time you did that."

Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue, then shut it, his cheeks heating horribly. Yes, that, goodness, the thought still did things to him.

Helena's laughter brought him back and Aziraphale realised that she and Crowley were sizing each other up and apparently deciding that the other was interesting enough for their attention.

While Helena was a lovely and sweet woman, she had a sarcastic side and plenty of humour and, in many ways, this reminded Aziraphale of Crowley. Yes, they were alike in some ways and she would be the kind of human that Crowley would gravitate towards. For a moment, he wondered if perhaps he might regret introducing such two forces of nature to one another. Their kind of humour would most certainly promise an interesting time ahead - especially for himself.

Then he realised that it would be absolutely brilliant. Crowley needed people in his life that didn't back down just because he had an attitude, and while Aziraphale had witnessed the dynamics between Edith and Helena, he knew that just because Helena was, as she'd told him early on, Edith's sub, it did not mean she'd back down in the face of opposition. She most certainly never had with him.

"Now there's a story untold," Helena said with a wink and waved towards the till. "I better get the things I promised to pick up. You two have a good day - and Aziraphale, bring your friend over, Edith is dying to meet him too."

Crowley snorted, and leaned back in his seat, once again adopting a boneless posture.

"I will," Aziraphale promised and watched her leave them.

"I like her," Crowley said.

"I thought you might," Aziraphale said and turned his attention back to his friend. "She and Edith are very lovely."

Crowley took a sip of his coffee and the sunglasses slid down his nose, allowing Aziraphale to see his eyes again. Which the angel appreciated very much.

"The other night was… very lovely, yes," Aziraphale said in a low voice, bringing the conversation back to where they had been. He put the thought about asking Crowley to touch his wings on the backburner. For now.

"But you'd like a bit more…" Crowley smirked, "penetration."

"How crude, Crowley, please," Aziraphale scolded, though without much heat. At least Crowley didn't beat around the bush when it came to this. The question was if he was ready for it.

Crowley licked his lower lip and leaned forward, eyes never leaving Aziraphale's. "I'd like to do that."

He sounded so calm, but Aziraphale could see the heat again, the fact that what they had been doing had obviously weakened Crowley's worries.

"You're not worried that it might make me fall?"

"Angel… you're not wrong - what we've done so far, if that hasn't brought with it any repercussions, what we want outweighs my worries."

"No, Crowley, your worries are part of you, they are valid, and as much as I've pushed…"

"With good reason, angel," Crowley interrupted him. "I had been thinking about it for so long that I was running circles in my head. I can admit that. For you, as much as for myself. And what you're asking is something I've thought about many times in the past. Maybe I just eventually convinced myself that it was best I would never have it for the sake of you grace."

Aziraphale opened his mouth to ask for how long, then shut it again. Getting hung up on the past and what could have been would be a waste of time. "If you are sure?"

"Angel, we both have safewords, we can use them and we trust each other." Crowley cocked his head to the side. "Trust _me_ to know my limits and trust yourself to stop if I ask you to."

Aziraphale allowed himself a small smile. "Yes, we do. I would trust you with my all."

"Same, angel, same," Crowley said, sitting back and pushing his glasses back up, covering his eyes, as if he had shared too much, been too forthcoming, too soft.

Aziraphale was terribly proud of him.


	9. The Best Kind of Bastard Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley had a minor crisis (which needs to be addressed). 
> 
> And Aziraphale gets what he's wanted all along plus interest.

Crowley stood in the doorway of his bedroom. He'd done this on and off all day, checking on the room as if it'd evaporate if he didn't. 

This was… something else. Significant in ways he wasn't sure he could put words to. 

They'd done all the things they had done in Aziraphale's bedroom. The soft coziness of the room above the bookshop. He thought he might understand why Aziraphale had chosen to change the venue, but he wasn't sure that he was as onboard with the idea as he'd thought at first.

He felt more at home in Aziraphale's home most of the time. His own was cold and sterile, nothing like the angel's eclectic abode.

Yet, Aziraphale had said his place. Should he change it? Make it softer? The room wavered for a moment, years of conditioning fighting his thoughts. In the end, nothing much changed, save the bedding becoming softer and more welcoming, though his bed had always been a decadent thing - he loved his sleep - and only the best of mattresses would do, only the most comfortable covers.

Crowley growled at himself. He was being stupid, overthinking things.

The problem was that he wanted things to be perfect, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. Wasn't sure how to _make_ it perfect.

Much to his relief, the doorbell tore him from his spiral of doubt. Checking his watch he realised that he'd been standing in the doorway for so long that Aziraphale had arrived in the meantime.

"Shit, shit shit," he muttered to himself. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the worry down. This was Aziraphale, they could get through this, they _would_ get through this.

Aziraphale's smile faltered when Crowley opened the door.

"Are you alright?" Aziraphale lifted his hand, but halfway there, he let it drop again.

"I... yeah," Crowley replied, taking a deep breath before reaching out to take Aziraphale's hand and leading him inside his flat. "Just working myself up into a frenzy, you know."

"Ah," Aziraphale replied, his worried face softening again. "And what set it off this time?"

Crowley considered just brushing it aside and getting on with whatever Aziraphale had planned for the night. Then he stopped himself. No, this would only work if they stayed honest with each other. And Crowley realised he really did want to. Wanted Aziraphale to know and hopefully understand whatever hangups he had.

Leading Aziraphale to the bedroom, Crowley stopped him at the door, trying not to hang on to him like some clingy creature. "When you look in there, what do you see?"

Aziraphale gave him a long searching look, then turned to look inside Crowley's bedroom.

"I see your bedroom."

Crowley nodded, silently urging him to go on.

"A bit more modern and 'hip' than mine," he added.

"The bed?"

Aziraphale gave him a long look, then looked at the bed again. "It looks comfortable. Big."

"But not cozy, like yours."

"Crowley," Aziraphale turned to him, pulling him in close and angling it to allow Crowley to put his head on Aziraphale's shoulder. "Why would this worry you?"

"I don't know," Crowley replied, honestly not sure how to put it into words. Didn't mean he wasn't going to try. "I guess it's because this is the first time we're going to do anything of the sort in my bed."

Aziraphale's hold on him tightened and it felt so good that Crowley considered just staying like that for the foreseeable future.

"I didn't consider that," Aziraphale mumbled against Crowley's cheek. "If you'd rather…"

"Nah, it's okay, angel, I just felt you'd be more at home in your own bed."

"Crowley, the only thing I like about my own bed is you in it - trust me when I say that the bed is not the important part of that equation."

Crowley blinked a couple of times, most certainly not rubbing a few runaway tears off in Aziraphale's jacket. "How do you know exactly what to say?" He aimed for sarcasm, but it came out far too softly.

"Oh, I most certainly do not - I am, as you would say, winging it."

Crowley chuckled, the lump in his throat lessening quite a bit.

"If you want to call tonight off..."

"No," Crowley interrupted, leaning back, but not letting go of Aziraphale. "No, I'm good. Just a small wobble."

"Even a small wobble is important to address," Aziraphale said, his fingers resting on Crowley's hips digging in a little harder. "Perhaps to avoid it becoming a stumble."

"Yeah," Crowley agreed. "Sometimes you're extra smart, angel."

"I do try, my dear." Aziraphale leaned in and pressed his lips chastely to Crowley's. "So we are alright, then?"

"We're good," Crowley agreed. He chased after Aziraphale's lips and this time he got a nice long snog, both calming as well as exciting him. Well, his worries were calmed, while the rest of him was very excited.

Pressing forward, he came to a stop when Aziraphale was pressed up against the door frame. "Tell me to stop if you need to," he mumbled before kissing him again.

Aziraphale moaned softly into his mouth and, for a few moments, he didn't answer. Gasping as Crowley pulled back, the angel levelled a look at him. "The same goes for you, Crowley. You stop, you tell me to stop, if it gets too much."

"Agreed," Crowley said, leaning forward.

"I mean it, Crowley," Aziraphale said, putting a hand in the middle of Crowley's chest to hold him in place for a moment.

Crowley nodded. "I know, angel, I know, and I promise."

"Good," Aziraphale said, seemingly placated by Crowley's promise. "Now I think perhaps you should take me to your bed."

Feeling a lot of the tension leaving his body, Crowley took Aziraphale's hand and led him into the bedroom. He wondered if perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, or if the room instantly brightened and became softer the moment his angel set foot inside.

"May I?" Crowley asked, putting his hands on Aziraphale's lapels. "Undress you," he clarified.

"Of course you may," Aziraphale replied softly. The way he was looking at Crowley made the demon want to hide away for a century or two. So much patience, so much love. Maybe the latter was why he hadn't fallen. Or maybe Crowley had just been superstitious.

Crowley carefully took Aziraphale's jacket and hung it on a chair that had conveniently decided to exist a few seconds prior. Taking the angel's waistcoat as well, he hung it with the jacket.

So focused was Crowley on undoing the buttons of Aziraphale's shirt that he let out a startled 'meep' when the angel stole a quick kiss.

"Are you getting a little lost?"

Crowley shrugged. "I guess I've just realised I like undressing you."

"I'm not complaining," Aziraphale said with a small laugh. "On the contrary, I find I quite like it."

Crowley decided he needed to shut him up, and leaned in to kiss him, going for feral and hard, but somehow ending up in a long, soft lock of the lips, Aziraphale's hands gentle on his hips. Not pushing or pulling, just… resting there. Like the most natural thing in the world.

And Crowley realised that was exactly what he'd wanted. What he'd _always_ wanted. This natural ease between them. Be it in a restaurant at a table, be it walking hand-in-hand or in the intimacy of the bedroom. Any bedroom.

Undoing Aziraphale's cufflinks, Crowley put them down on the bedside table. They were simple silver, very old and Crowley recognized them and heat bloomed in his chest. A gift given a long time ago. Taking a shaky breath, he carefully lifted Aziraphale's shirt off his shoulder and stopped before putting it down. He was caught in the vision of his angel. Looking at the softness of Aziraphale's body, Crowley marveled at the knowledge that there was nothing but the strongest steel underneath. Only a fool would underestimate a principality. God had created Her guardians to be durable and strong.

God had been extra smart when She'd made Aziraphale, though. [*]

(* God wished She could take credit for having created the Guardian of The Eastern Gate with perfection in mind, but She'd have to admit that She'd gone with Her gut feeling - not that She had a gut to have feelings in, but the human saying fit fairly well.)

  


Soft and inviting, Crowley thought to himself. He put the shirt with Aziraphale's jacket before stepping forward, putting his arms around the angel. It felt a bit like coming home; Aziraphale's arms coming up around his waist. 

Crowley rubbed his hands up and down Aziraphale's back, feeling the muscles working under the skin. "Angel, your wings?"

"Certainly," Aziraphale agreed, leaning in to kiss him.

The surge of power as Aziraphale brought his wings into the same world as his corporation was like a small electrical zap, making Crowley's lips tingle. He could feel the feathers bursting out between his fingers, but he kept his hands where they were, at the roots of the wings, wondering if what he was feeling could be likened to sticking your fingers into an electrical outlet. [*]

(* Had a human done this, they would have been fried, so perhaps like sticking one’s fingers into an electrical outlet times ten.)

  


"Oh! Goodness," Aziraphale all but sighed into his mouth. "That feels very good."

Crowley rubbed the tips of his fingers against the heavy muscles connecting the wings to the angel's shoulder blades.

"Oh!" Aziraphale gasped and squirmed against Crowely. "That feels even better."

Aziraphale leaned in and kissed him and Crowley was thoroughly derailed. Between the soft, wet touch of lips and the feathers against his fingertips, the rest of the world could just sod off for all he cared.

"Do you still want to do this?" Aziraphale mumbled against his mouth when they broke the kiss.

Fuck, how could he ask such a question? Then Crowley hesitated. Yes, he wanted this, but he wasn't sure exactly _how_ he wanted this.

"Angel, I may need some help." The words were out before he could stop them.

"Anything you want, my dear, anything."

"It's not that I don't know how to have sex, but I don't know what I want or rather, how I want it," Crowley admitted, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Aziraphale's.

"Hmm," Aziraphale sighed, rubbing the tip of his nose against Crowley's. The movement was so small, but so sweet that Crowley wanted to hide away, he wasn't ready to face it. "What comes to your mind first?"

"I want access to your wings," Crowley said before he could stop himself. He hadn't even thought about this consciously, but considering that he had his fingers buried in their roots this very moment, he probably shouldn't have been surprised. And it wasn't even because he wanted to keep checking to see if they were still white.

Aziraphale leaned back enough to meet his eyes and Crowley was floored with the absolute ferocity of want he saw. Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the rest of his clothes ended up neatly folded on the chair before he stepped out of Crowley's hold, towards the bed, never for a moment looking away from him, or breaking eye contact.

Even as he turned to climb onto the bed, Crowley frozen at the foot of it, he kept his head turned to look coily over his shoulder. The large wings spread to fill the width of the bedroom and Crowley was hit with the amazing contrast of the whiteness against all the blackness of his decor.

For a few moments, all he could do was watch Aziraphale, eyes glued to his, ever aware of the beauty of the body on display for him. And there was no way the angel didn't know what he was doing - how this impacted Crowley, how much he _wanted_ Aziraphale.

Crowley's own clothes, never truly there in the first place, though always as real as anything tailor-made that Aziraphale would wear, were gone in the blink of an eye. Yes, he'd wanted to undress his angel slowly, but all that had gone out the window the second Aziraphale had looked at him like that.

Like he was a six course meal at the Ritz.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale folded his arms in front of him and turned his head, breaking eye contact to put his head down to rest. He wriggled a little on the mattress, spreading his thighs and looking like an invitation to sin.

Swallowing hard, Crowley moved forward, slowly, getting on his hands and knees and crawling up the bed, eyes rowing over the planes and curves, all creamy white and begging to be marked. As he came to a stop, knees on either side of Aziraphale's hips, hands flat on the bed, forearms brushing the feathers of Aziraphale's wings, he drew a deep breath. Then he leaned down and kissed the swell of muscle where his shoulder and neck met. Before biting into it, none too gently.

Aziraphale froze for a moment, went utterly still under him, the wings stretched to their limits, tips brushing the walls. Then he shook and the cry escaping him nearly made Crowley come, nearly brought him from half-hard to spent in less than a second, and only demonic intervention kept him from just going off.

No way should an angel of the Lord sound like that.[*]

(* God felt perhaps that Crowley was unfair. She'd created Her angels perfect - and it turned out perfection in this Principality was a perfect match for a certain demon's needs. So perhaps he should cut Her some slack.)

  


Not that Crowley's thoughts were anywhere near coherent enough to give God Her dues. He was entirely too busy mouthing along Aziraphale's shoulder, tasting salt and sweetness overlapping each other. Crowley never felt he needed sustenance, but at this very moment, his entire being cried out for him to eat up the creature laid out underneath him.

Devour him.

Aziraphale moaned and arched his back, wordlessly begging for Crowley to touch.

Crowley shook his head and lifted one hand, brushing his fingers against feathers, just a quick caress before lifting his hand to snap his fingers. Slick liquid covered them. Shuffling back a little, he shifted to sit between Aziraphale's spread thighs, which the angel obligingly spread a little more, open and vulnerable to Crowley's gaze, to his touch.

For a moment, Crowley grappled for self-control before finally allowing himself to touch. He put his thumb against the swell of Aziraphale's arse, pressing it lightly down against the tailbone. Such attention to detail in his corporation. Crowley pressed hard enough to feel it, hearing the contented sigh from his pillow principality, lying there and expecting to be served.

And if Crowley had anything to say about it, his angel would be served very well before the night was over.

He rubbed his thumb down the crevice between the cheeks, watching and feeling Aziraphale shake underneath him. The wings brushed and rustled against Crowley's other arm, tickling as well as sending small waves of pleasure through his skin.

Angling his hand a little, Crowley pressed his thumb against Aziraphale's opening. The puckered skin was a little damp with sweat, but still too dry for penetration. Crowley curled his thumb up against his other fingers, the slick of lube multiplying and covering it as well.

Crowley wanted to ask if Aziraphale was okay with this, but he couldn't, for all the temptation in the world, find his voice. A small shiver and shift in Aziraphale's hips told him what words didn't, and Crowley breathed out a sigh of relief - which he hadn't noticed he'd been holding back.

The movement also served to push the tip of Crowley's thumb into the opening. Not enough to breach it as such, but more than enough to draw a moan from Aziraphale. One that Crowley realised he'd mirrored. He had to wonder if he could even get through this without expiring, discorporating. His angel, all his, to do with as he pleased. And he was well aware, at that moment, that Aziraphale would let him do anything and everything and the thought not only humbled him, but made his body and soul burn even brighter, with the need to have, to touch, to _take_. To bring his angel pleasure.

Pressing a little harder, Crowley wriggled his thumb and felt it slide inside the tight heat, making his cock throb as he tried hard not to think what it would feel like around it, when he'd bury himself to the root. The needy whimper from Aziraphale didn't exactly help.

"You feel amazing," Crowley finally managed to get out. He had to tell Aziraphale this.

"I'd feel even better if you'd use two," Aziraphale moaned, obviously aiming for cheeky.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and pulled his finger out, to turn his hand and slap one sweaty glute. "A cheek for a cheek, angel."

The jolt and breathy moan it got him was a bit of an eye-opener, he had to admit, because Aziraphale was all but shaking. For a split second, Crowley thought that he might have hurt him, but then realised that Aziraphale was gasping out encouragements.

Well, in that case.

Crowley slapped the same cheek again, watching the red imprint of his own hand.

"Crowley!"

Crowley froze. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked carefully.

"Goodness, no, you silly thing - more please."

"Didn't know you were into this kind of thing," Crowley said, trying to sound less breathless about it than he was. He didn't quite manage.

"Neither did I," Aziraphale admitted, lifting his butt up a little. "Please carry on."

"With the slapping or the…"

"All of it, you bastard," Aziraphale moaned. "I feel like I'm falling apart, I need you."

Crowley wasn't going to make him repeat that, even if it did a lot of things to him, sending jolts of pleasure and possibilities through his mind.

"As you wish, my angel," he replied, proud that his voice didn't break halfway through.

"I wish for you to be buried to the hilt in me, right this very moment, Crowley," Aziraphale demanded.

Crowley bit his lower lip and slapped Aziraphale's butt again, causing the angel to cry out once again. "Like I said, your wish is my command, but you'll have to show some patience."

Aziraphale muttered something into the curve of his folded arms, which Crowley couldn't make out, but he knew it wouldn't be particularly flattering or nice.

There he was, Crowley's magnificent bastard angel.

Crowley slicked his fingers a little more and pushed his index finger in, watching it slide inside, then back out. He did it again, just to feel Aziraphale clenching around it.

"More," Aziraphale demanded.

Crowley knew he could only deny him so much, so he obliged, this time slowly pushing two fingers in, watching Aziraphale shake and breathe hard. He rested his other hand in the small of Aziraphale's back, watching it rise and fall with each inhale and exhale.

Managing to ignore his own need for a few minutes, he lost himself in the movement of fingers sliding in and out of Aziraphale's heat, eventually pushing three inside, making the angel squirm most delightfully on Crowley's slippery black silk sheets.

And wasn't that a sight? Aziraphale, pale skin and pristine white wings laid out in contrast to their darkness. The most enticing and beautiful sight that Crowley had ever seen.

"Crowley, please…"

Gone was the demanding tone, leaving only the pleading and the begging in its wake. Aziraphale's breathy voice throwing whimpers and gasps at him, interspersed by appeals to Crowley's mercy.

A demon's mercy. An angel at a demon's mercy. This would have frightened Crowley weeks ago - when they'd first started doing this. But as much as it seemed like this, Aziraphale was only 'at his mercy' because he chose to be. Crowley could see this by now, and the gesture of trust nearly broke him, nearly brought him to tears and would have most certainly brought him to his knees, if he wasn’t already there.

As such, Crowley, even with his millennia of self-taught control could only hold out on the pleas for so long.

For what felt like the longest time, Crowley stared down at his hand, his fingers glistening and no longer buried in the heat of Aziraphale's body. Just… resting there on one perfectly rounded globe.

Whatever it was stalling his determination, Aziraphale seemed to be aware of it as well, because the pleas had dwindled to whimpers and by now they were nothing but heavy, hitched breathing.

No amount of soul searching later would allow Crowley to know exactly what broke the dam for him, all he could remember was that from one moment to the next he'd gone from frozen in time and space to digging his thumbs in on either side of the cleft, completely exposing Aziraphale's glistening opening. Biting his lower lip, Crowley moved forward, let go with one hand to guide himself inside and breach his angel. Only just, though.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Crowley pushed and, accompanied by a long drawn out moan from Aziraphale, he was finally where he'd wanted to be for such a long time.

"A-angel?" Crowley blinked his eyes open, not even aware that at some point he'd closed them. His hips were flush with Aziraphale's arse, his upper body leaning over Aziraphale's back. His cock buried to the root in Aziraphale's plump bottom.

Aziraphale's hands were fisted in the sheets, his breathing laboured for a moment before evening out. "Please."

Crowley fought to breathe even though he strictly speaking didn't need it. "Please what?" he asked, staring at Aziraphale's wings, spread to the sides like some soft version of the Angel of the North, no less majestic and awe inspiring.

Crowley wished later that he could have remembered the whole thing with clarity, but perhaps that would have been too much to ask for. At that very moment, he was so focused on feeling the heat and pressure of Aziraphale around his cock and the sweat damp skin against his front, that it all melted together in his mind.

Pulling out and slowly pushing back in, he could hear his own breathing speeding up, wheezing. Like an old bagpipe incapable of holding air. He could hear the breathily muttered encouragements from Aziraphale, barely intelligible words, possibly in several dead languages.

At some point, Crowley was unsure when, he'd lifted his hands and buried his fingers in Aziraphale's wings, and apparently that had been the last straw, the last drop to make the glass overflow.

Aziraphale's voice split into several, a crescendo of sounds, pipes, horns, screams, prayers - the true voice of an angel. Crowley buried his face in the back of Aziraphale's neck and cried out, hips pistoning through his climax, the room filling with a blinding glow until all was white and nothing mattered anymore.

Crowley resurfaced a few moments later, still buried inside Aziraphale, although he was by now soft and spent. The salt he could taste on Aziraphale's skin wasn't just from sweat, he realised, feeling the wetness that still coated his eyelashes.

He flexed his fingers and realised at the same time as Aziraphale moaned, long and drawn out, that he had two great big handfuls of feathers in each, his hands still buried in Aziraphale's wings.

"Fuck, Aziraphale," he said, barely getting the words out. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

Aziprahale turned his head enough to make himself heard. "I do not believe that 'alright' covers it, my lovely. I feel like no human phrase can ever describe how amazing you've made me feel tonight."

This was also the point where Crowley realised that his stylish black on black bedroom was bathed in the soft ethereal light that seemed to come from nowhere but fill everything. Well, if he'd been worried that Aziraphale might fall, perhaps he shouldn't be anymore. If anything, the angel glowed more than ever, grace still pure as the driven snow.

Crowley felt like his chest was about to explode. He needed to do something, because the alternative was trying to figure out what to say. Ever so carefully, he pulled out of Aziraphale, wincing at the sticky mess.

A quick snap of the fingers and Crowley had a damp cloth and settling on his knees, still between Aziraphale's fleshy thighs, he cleaned away the mess. He could just as easily have snapped his fingers and removed it, but somehow the thought made him feel that if he had, it'd be like getting rid of something illicit and dirty.

And this was not dirty or illicit in any way. It was beautiful. Eventually there was no mess left but the wings and Crowley flicked the cloth into oblivion. Before he could give it another thought, he was up on his knees, moving to sit across the small of Aziraphale's back. This got him another half moan, half sigh.

Staring down at the wings, he winced. "Sorry about the wings."

"Don't be, love, it felt amazing." Aziraphale stretched both his arms and wings out to the sides, humming contentedly.

"I made a mess of them."

"I don't mind."

"No, it's not comfortable, I know that, angel - and if you don't mind…" Crowley trailed off, not sure how to ask.

Aziraphale, obviously catching on, turned his head again, not enough to look at Crowley, but enough that there was no mistaking the stern set to his mouth.

"My darling, you must know by now that there is nothing you can ask of me that I will not grant you."

Crowley drew in a quick breath. No, he knew, and it was a weapon he should not be given. It was a power he was incapable of wielding without abusing.

Yet… "Can I groom your wings?" There, it was out.

A soft happy noise escaped the angel and Crowley could tell a shiver went through him. "Yes, of course you may."

Crowley's long fingers were buried in the feathers before he could even think about it, righting them, smoothing them down and making sure that nothing was ruffled. And he lost himself in it. So much that he was taken completely by surprise when at some point, Aziraphale flipped them over, wings spread wide like human depictions of an avenging angel. Apparently what was calming for Crowley to do was a huge turn-on for Aziraphale.

He should have probably expected it considering how all the noises from Aziraphale were hot and horny as well. It didn't last long, Crowley happily jamming a thigh between Aziraphale's while Aziraphale rode it to his second climax, wringing another one out of Crowley as well.

Collapsing on the bed, they clung together and Crowley wondered how this could feel so good and how was he even allowed to feel this way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For those not in the know, google Angel of the North, New Castle, you won't regret it.)


	10. (I get by) With a Little Help from my Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley might be on the edge of discorporating from pure pleasure and Aziraphale shows his true bastard side (in the best possible way). And Crowley realises that when it comes to kink and pleasure, he might be a bit out of the loop.

Aziraphale stood up, righted his waistcoat and sat back down. He was in an odd state, somewhere between absolute relaxation of mind and utter giddiness.

It had pretty much been the state he'd been in since he'd finally talked Crowley into penetrating him. No, that was a lie - it hadn't been that alone. It had been the love flowing through them, Crowley's love for him, Aziraphale's own love for Crowley. But it had been a bit of an eye opener for him as well, when Crowley had buried his fingers in his feathers and, none too gently, nearly ripped them out.

It wasn't that Aziraphale was into pain, not at all, but it had been as if a current had connected from the base of his wings to his cock. Every touch, squeeze and pull of them had felt like he'd lose his control.

And he wanted Crowley to do it again. Wondered if perhaps he wanted it too much. It was on his mind nearly constantly. He stared down at the notebook in front of him. The page was still woefully blank. He'd tried to come up with ideas for what he might entice Crowley into doing next time. Honestly, what he really wanted was for Crowley to initiate, it didn't matter if it was cuddling or the kinkiest choice, really. Though after the last time, Aziraphale wanted to ask him to groom his wings. It just seemed so… tame. And while Crowley had obviously been enjoying it, he'd certainly want more - he'd have come to expect more from Aziraphale. Not a cuddle session in bed complete with angel wing care, a beginner's course. 

Once again, Aziraphale leafed through the book Edith had given him. It was much newer than any of the books in his own shop and was an in-depth work on the nature and history of kinks.

There was no doubt that Edith and Helena were very good at advising in these things. So much so, that Aziraphale had pointed one or two youths he'd run into in their direction. The fact that humans seemed to still have trouble dealing with same sex relationships irked him.

And possibly Aziraphale had gotten much better at spotting them now that he'd reconciled himself with the fact that he was, in fact, an angel of Earth and mankind, rather than of Heaven. He turned his eyes heavenward and sent a silent apology. [*]

(* God considered for a moment speaking to him, but felt perhaps She'd break him if She were to break Her silence after so long. Instead She settled for letting a smidgeon of Her love descend on him and, indeed, Aziraphale felt more at ease right away. She was very glad that he'd taken to Her creations like this.)

  


His eyes fell on a section and he was intrigued by it. How very wonderful, these humans, coming up with all sorts of good ideas. And how lucky was he, to be allowed to reap their knowledge. [*]

(* One might say that Aziraphale sowed his own seed in this, as he'd been remiss in his 'appletree duty' at one point. )

  


And yes, he was most certainly making his plans for the next time they were having sex. Aziraphale even considered what kind of effort he should be making. He could see the more relaxed angle of a female one, but he was also aware that his own comfort lay in what he was used to; the male body and the male effort.

In the end, he figured he'd go with what he knew best and set about planning.

* * *

Crowley drifted in and out of focus. He'd been riding the edge of his third orgasm for long enough to have lost all sense of time. And still, Aziraphale was sitting astride him, all prim and proper - or as prim and proper as anyone could make it when naked, using Crowley's chest as a table for his plate of neverending snacks and Crowley's dick up his arse.

While reading the raunchiest erotic poetry the bastard could find. By now, Crowley could barely make sense of the words, just rode the lovely cadence of his angel's voice. For all he cared, Aziraphale could have been reading from the menu at the Ritz or a shopping list. It wasn't the words so much as the sounds they were making.

He'd wondered about Aziraphale's suggestion at first. To just lie back, hold onto the headboard and let the angel ride him.

What he hadn't expected, was Aziraphale staying where he was, not moving and not getting off him - just sitting astride Crowley.

Now one might think that a demon would know of all the human practices when it came to sex, but Crowley had long since given up staying in the loop. This one he most certainly wasn't familiar with. And while at first he'd been a bit hesitant, he'd followed Aziraphale's lead. And he hadn't regretted it one bit.

Well, apart from the fact that both previous orgasms he'd had to ask for - on the border of begging to be allowed to come. And if he knew Aziraphale right, he'd be begging for the third one as well.

Actually, he'd been doing that for so long now he couldn't quite figure out how long.

"Angel, please," he tried, his lips chapped, his breathing harsh. It wasn't quite on the brink of using his safeword, but he wasn't far from it. While he _was_ enjoying himself, and the tight heat his cock was trapped in, there was only so much he could take.

Aziraphale paused, and possibly he'd heard something in Crowley's voice, because he put a bookmark (a gilded thing with a blood red tassel) in place and put the book aside. Still, he wasn't quite giving in. At least not obviously so.

With a put upon sigh, he lifted his plate of treats and held it up. "Very well, then, if you must?"

Crowley wanted to say that he was dignified at that moment when his body shook with its release, but really, anyone who thought sex and dignified belonged in the same sentence had it all wrong.

In the end, he lost his focus, couldn't see through blurred eyes - realising that quite possibly he was crying - and not giving a damn about it. All he could focus on was wave after wave of pleasure, roiling through his body, making him shake until he thought he might shake apart - become nothing but his serpent self, the one that would most certainly be too big for the bed. He was almost certain his corporation was blown to smithereens.

Much to Crowley's surprise, it wasn't. He still had no sense of time, and when he came to, he'd been cleaned and was being cradled and gently rocked in deceptively soft arms.

"Angel," Crowley said, or tried to, at least. What came out had nothing in common with the term anymore.

"Please, don't try to speak," Aziraphale said softly, holding a glass to his lips.

Crowley wasn't sure what he'd expected, but water hadn't been it. Normally he'd have spat it back out - when he indulged it was either coffee or booze. This was something fish fucked in!

However, Aziraphale had it right, and Crowley greedily drank down the water as if it was better than any wine he'd ever tasted.

"Easy, my dear," Aziraphale cautioned, making sure that he didn't drink too fast.

"Angel, that was…" Crowley wasn't even sure that he could put it into words. The way he'd been gone, drifting in the finest pleasure.

"You liked it?" Aziraphale asked and Crowley realised that the angel had possibly not been too sure about the reception of his idea.

"Yeah, I did, though not sure it's something I could handle too often," Crowley said with a small laugh. He'd aimed for cheeky or flirty, but it came out raw and honest.

"Oh!" Aziraphale's smile brightened the whole room. "No, I don't think it's something we should be doing all that often, but perhaps once in a while and…" He hesitated for a moment. "And perhaps you'd like to try it on me?"

Crowley opened his mouth to answer, but his mind quite possibly short-circuited. Like a phone's busy tone.

"Not sure I know enough about this stuff to do it," he admitted, because if anything, he knew they had to be honest to each other about this - or it'd get out of hand. There was no room for stupid blustering.

"Well, I have books on it," Aziraphale began, his smile a little more assured now. Though he must have noticed the look of distaste on Crowley's face. The demon rarely read. Serpent eyes were not the best for such a task.

"I could also refer you to Helena and Edith," Aziraphale said slowly.

Crowley ransacked his mind for a moment and then realised why one of the names had been at least familiar. "The one we met in the diner?"

"Yes," Aziraphale said happily. "They have been an immense help, and they care very much about privacy - your conversations would be entirely between you and them."

Crowley considered this. Yes, it might be an option - because he was enjoying all this, the new adventurous side of his angel. He wondered if they might have ideas how he could make things a little softer - because while he did enjoy this side of his angel, he really wanted other things too.

The problem was putting them into words when he wasn't sure what they were either.

* * *

"Maybe it's not for me," Crowley said, his head frankly spinning from two hours in Edith and Helena's company.

"And that would be perfectly alright!" Helena said, holding up a hand. "But you did ask."

"I know - and I'm beginning to think that perhaps tempting Eve with the knowledge, I dug my own grave," Crowley muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry?" Edith shot him an odd look.

"Nothing," Crowley replied, waving his hand dismissively. "It's just… if Aziraphale wants it..."

"He also obviously loves you," Edith said. "He'll understand."

"But…"

"No buts," Helena said.

"If Helena doesn't want to do something, no matter how much I'd like it, then we don't do it," Edith told him. "Her well-being is above my need to push boundaries."

Crowley made a face. It wasn't that he didn't trust Aziraphale. Far from it, but he'd thought so much about it since Aziraphale had asked him to do to him what he'd done to Crowley. "I just don't think I'm comfortable with that level of power over him." At least not yet. And quite frankly, even though they were both immortal, he might never be.

"I think you need to talk this through with him, and be very, very sure that you tell exactly what you are willing to do and what you are not comfortable with doing. What you're talking about needs consent from both parties," Edith said quietly. "Helena is much in the same boat - and while I love trying new things, I also know what she is willing to do and what she's not."

"The hallmarks of a good dom," Crowley said as the information slotted into place. At no point had he considered this. He could hit himself over the head for it. He knew this stuff, it had always fascinated him about humans - but always in an abstract way.

Satan, was he a thick idiot sometimes.

"Well, yes, but any relationship would necessitate - or at least gain from - proper communication," Helena said with a laugh.

"Yeah, I know- It's not something we've been particularly good at in the past," Crowley admitted, taking a sip of his coffee.

"It's not necessarily easy, but it _is_ necessary," Edith interjected.

"Yeah, I know."

So, he'd completely missed that the way Aziraphale had been handling him had such strong undercurrents of dom/sub relationship - and it shouldn't have been such a surprise to him, should it? Considering that Aziraphale had been on friendly terms with these two women for a while now.

Satan, yes, he needed to give them more than just good wine. Flowers maybe, or influence a politician or two for the sake of the community - nothing he hadn't done before - a surprisingly easy sales pitch to Hell, sowing 'discord' among the humans by making politicans focus on queer causes. It was something he'd been particularly proud of. Hell thought it caused trouble which technically wasn't a lie. As long as Crowley didn't go into details and no one noticed new pro-lgbt+ laws popping up in the wake.

And something he wondered if perhaps he should tell Aziraphale about - if the angel didn't already know. Odds were he did, because Crowley remembered one or two laws getting passed that he'd influenced a bit where Aziraphale had treated him to the particularly good wine from his collection.

In the end, Crowley bid the two women goodbye - with a lot more information and understanding in his head than he'd been expecting.

He'd so often seen humans abuse and misuse the knowledge they had gained in the Garden, but every once in a while someone would come along and remind him just why the whole apple thing might not have been such a bad idea after all. Even if he'd never admit that to Hell, but to himself, he could be that truthful, at least.

* * *

Now, if Crowley had thought that knowing more about his and Aziraphale's interactions would help him figure out what he wanted, he'd have to think again.

While he did basically realise that the whole kink thing was interesting, but perhaps by now a little too much, it was still difficult to put into words exactly what it was _he_ wanted and as he slowly worked mentally towards what he wanted, he'd quite happily go along with Aziraphale's ideas.

It wasn't like it was such a hardship to be on a voyage of sexual discovery with Aziraphale. The angel most certainly had an appetite. And quite frankly, Crowley enjoyed sating it. Always had. Aziraphale coveted something, Crowley got it for him. Books, food, trinkets.

And lately, himself.

* * *

Aziraphale stared down at his impeccably manicured fingernails. The bookshop was quiet (and closed) and he'd been spending at least the last hour contemplating his next sexual encounter with Crowley. He had a lot of ideas, but many of them were deviations of the things they had already done. And Aziraphale did, deep down when he was honest with himself, worry that perhaps Crowley might lose interest, eventually. If it got too boring.

If he became boring.

Shaking himself to dislodge such a silly idea, Aziraphale sat back in his chair. It wasn't that they had exhausted the list of human kinks. Far from it. But he'd been wondering lately, if perhaps he should turn his eyes elsewhere for a while.

He looked up at the ceiling. What would God think if She knew? If She could see his urges? [*]

(* God could see them quite well, and She was very interested in how they would go about it.)

  


Aziraphale sighed and cursed his habit of going in mental circles, finding more and more reasons to doubt his own ideas. So far Crowley had been more than receptive. Yet… if Aziraphale were to suggest what had been on his mind for quite a while now? Would Crowley agree?

During his time under celestial management, Aziraphale had gotten very used to suppressing what he really wanted, but it was as if the Apocalypse and their following trials - if one could call them that - had dropped a veil from his eyes, had spurred him to action.

There was only one way to know.

And thus Crowley was invited over for an evening of wine and, well, wine, seeing as the demon rarely ate, but would never turn down the offer of alcohol.

* * *

"So, angel, what's eatin' at ya?" Crowley was lounging on the couch and if not for the copious amounts of wine, he'd probably have been more nervous than he seemed to be, at least to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale set his glass down with the care that only someone terribly drunk would do. He stared at it, at its half drunken contents, the red wine pressing against the glass, the once pristine outside marred by his fingerprints.

"I think we can agree that it behoves to be candid," he began, then made a face.

Crowley at least gave him the grace of not laughing at his mouthful of awkward words.

"Let's try that again," Aziraphale said, raising his voice, because while Crowley wasn't outright laughing, he was making some very giggly, throaty noises.

"Sorry, angel," Crowley wheezed. "Go on," he managed after clearing his voice an inordinate amount of times.

"We've done well with being honest to each other in this," Aziraphale said quietly, not entirely missing the look of guilt on Crowley's face. And for a moment he wondered if he should be pushing and asking if Crowley was unsure about this after all. Though it had seemed as if the demon had been quite happy about their encounters so far.

"It would be lovely if you were to share any ideas of things you'd like to do, but if not, I have a suggestion for our next time," Aziraphale said carefully. He kept an eye on Crowley's face, but for now all it showed was its usual curiosity.

Crowley shook his head. "Go on, angel, I'm all ears," Crowley replied, looking a little more sober as he set his glass down and gave Aziraphale his full attention. Gone were the glasses and Aziraphale felt an odd kinship with the butterfly pinned to the board with a needle by an aurelian. [*]

(* Aziraphale knew that lepidopterologist was a more used term, but he quite liked the more archaic term.)>/sup>

  


"Well, seeing as we have been doing things the human way so far," Aziraphale said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "How would you feel about leaving our corporations behind for a time and perhaps… joining a little differently?" 

Now that he had said it out loud he wanted to take the question back. What they had been doing was nothing compared to what he was suggesting. To take on their true forms and attempt to apply human sex to them would have been deemed warped and horrible by Heaven. He was fairly sure that Hell wouldn't be looking at it in any more favorable ways. [*]

(* God was a little hesitant to perhaps interfere in this - while She had a very staunch viewpoint of never doing so, She also worried a little as celestial beings, former or present, had not been created to do so. This, of course, did not mean She wasn't going to be taking notes on the outcome, because infinity aside, her principality and demon had been pushing boundaries in such a short span of time of what should or could be achieved. If they brought about the ending of the universe (unlikely) She wanted front row seats.)

  


Crowley sat, for lack of a better term, deadly still. If asked, Aziraphale would not have been able to say for how long they were like that; the angel literally teetering on the edge of his seat while the demon said and did nothing.

Then the air seemed to go out of Crowley, his shoulders sagging and his eyes closing. "Angel," he said, voice low and, Aziraphale had to admit, exactly like every erotic story would tell its reader a sexy voice sounded. [*]

(* Yes, exactly the kind of story you think it was.)

  


One way or another, it made Aziraphale shiver, made the small hairs on the back of his arms and neck stand up.

Oh, what an absolutely delicious feeling.

"I am only asking, because I wouldn't want to presume."

"By now, Aziraphale, you must know that I will go along with anything you say and suggest?" Crowley's demeanor softened. "You have yet to lead me astray, and I'm not too proud to admit that you were right about my worries."

Aziraphale drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I want you to know that I am glad that you feel that way - I did on occasion feel like I was bullying you into what _I_ wanted."

"Only in the most loving way possible," Crowley replied, voice dry as the desert. 

"But honestly…" Aziraphale wringed his hands. Had he actually been too pushy? He'd been so focused on having told Crowley that he'd gone too fast and catching up, that perhaps…

Crowley leaned forward and grabbed Aziraphale's hands, stilling them. "Easy, angel, no, I've liked all of it and you were right, I needed someone to knock the fear of you falling out of my head. We've been around for too long to live on 'what ifs'."

Aziraphale stared down at the warm hands gently cradling his. "So you are amenable?"

"I am always amenable to have sex with you, angel - human form or not. Though who knows what kind of reality warping we might do with this - I don't think there are any prior cases of what we're about to do?"

Aziraphale shrugged. "I have never come across any." It's not like he hadn't had similar worries. "However, if we take it slow?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Sure, angel, let's try it."

"So you wouldn't mind trying it this Saturday?" Aziraphale felt like he could finally breathe unobstructed.

Crowley nodded. "Yeah, let's do it sober - because if we get it wrong, we might actually not be able to get back to our corporations - and I doubt Heaven will be more forthcoming with a new one than Hell would be."

Aziraphale nodded. "Probably not."


	11. Out of this world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's trueform shenanigans, and Crowley realises that it's all okay and if he wants something, maybe he should just ask for it?

_Are you comfortable?_

Aziraphale had asked him this and Crowley had agreed as he'd laid down on the bed, side by side with Aziraphale, flat on his back with a nice soft pillow under his head. And he hadn't lied.

Didn't mean he wasn't just a little nervous either.

However, his nervousness was vastly overshadowed by the building excitement. Not only had he not left his human corporation in millennia, but he was going to do this with Aziraphale - the one being in the universe that he trusted and loved.

He should have told him first, shouldn't he? They'd told each other that they loved the other before, but this, he felt, needed something more, or at least, needed it to be repeated.

_I know, my darling._

Crowley almost startled, then recognised the familiar timbre.

_When you're ready, I'll be here._

Crowley closed his eyes and let go, feeling himself sink through the bed, the floor, through the downstairs bookshop, the old basement, the remains in the earth until he passed through the heated core of the planet and came out on the other side, forged in fire, tempered and embraced by the coldness of space.

He felt like mist, nebulous until he rose through the vast darkness, illuminated only by burning stars - more than a few that he recognized as having spun himself, once upon a time.

And then everything around him became secondary - even the largest of his creations, the most beautiful, he forgot at that moment. As his celestial being writhed and drifted through frozen space, all he could focus on was the absolute wonder before him.

Fluffy white clouds drifted around or clung to a swirling mass of power. At the core was a blinding light, yet it beckoned him forward, promising warmth and love rather than pain and destruction. Like the heart of a white star. The beauty of it was only enhanced by the coiled ribbons, white as the purest of snow - orbiting the light.

Each ribbon had eyes and they opened as one when Crowley drew near.

No words were exchanged. None were needed. One knew what the other thought, what the other wanted. Crowley drifted through ribbons whirling like rings around the heated core. Each eye looked upon him with so much love it must have lit up the other end of the galaxy. Anyone looking upon it must have been blinded.

Raw power reached for him and engulfed his dark, twisting body. It suffused every dark corner of his soul, lit it up, stroked it and drew him in.

What should have burned was nothing but the most welcome heat. Crowley's eldritch vessel coiled as the serpent it was, around the core, like a snake would seek out a hot rock to sun itself on.

The heat and grace of Aziraphale seeped through the serpent and snuck under scales, lighting every part of Crowley that had probably not been created to feel pleasure, but was at this very moment, doing exactly this.

There was no describing it in human terms. As Crowley sunk deeper into the heat, all he could compare it to was an itch, just this side of pleasant, that could not be scratched.

Only magnified by a million.

He could feel, sense and understand Aziraphale's wonder at what they were doing, his enjoyment, the hedonism wrapping itself around Crowley and Crowley's pleasure.

They could have been like this, drifting in and out of each other, for a long time - hours, days, weeks. Crowley had no idea. They were outside normal space, normal time. All that mattered was the constant barrage of love-lust-pleasure-worship. And it wasn't just what he was feeling from Aziraphale - it was a complete circuit flowing between them.

_Gently._

It took ages before Crowley felt he could fit into his corporation without feeling he'd been squeezed into a full body suit three sizes too small. And he thought that it would probably be a while before he would feel comfortable again.

Yet there was a part of him that was glad to be back. It had been absolutely wonderful, awe inspiring, but… Crowley fought down the sigh. How did he explain to Aziraphale that while this had been the most amazing thing ever, he truly, really wanted something a lot less elaborate.

Next to him, curled up against him, Aziraphale sighed into his neck.

Crowley wanted to ask him if he was alright, but no words wanted to leave his mouth, his lips unresponsive for now. However, they were still somehow connected and Aziraphale seemed to understand his unspoken question.

"I think perhaps we save this for only occasionally," Aziraphale said, his breath warm and humid against Crowley's neck.

"Mmmm," Crowley managed. He cleared his throat several times. "Angel, do you feel perhaps this whole kink thing has taken a turn into the…"

"Too much?" Aziraphale was still relaxed against him, so Crowley figured that he wasn't worried.

"Yeah." Then he frowned. "Not entirely - I've liked it - all of it. It's been fun seeing what you'd come up with next, but…" he trailed off, words escaping him for the moment. It was frustrating, but he still felt like a limp noodle and even his usual nerves didn't really want to get fired up so he could worry properly.

It probably also helped that Aziraphale was lying halfway on top of him - feeling about as boneless as Crowley did.

"You have other wishes?" Instead of sounding worried, Aziraphale sounded hopeful. Almost eager.

Maybe Crowley should have expressed his wants earlier? If he'd felt capable of actually verbalizing them. Which he hadn't.

"Crowley, we have just been submerged in each other in a way I am fairly sure God the Almighty did not plan for when She created us." [*]

(* God had to agree on that, but She was very impressed at the ingenuity of two beings so much in love that they seemed capable of changing the laws of physics, of the ethereal and demonic, to be something entirely new.)

  


Crowley laughed. It felt freeing, helping him fit into his corporation a little better. It helped him relax and it tasted like freedom.

"Would you hold it against me, if I said that I would like to sometimes just lie like this, holding you?"

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's waist. "I would like that very much."

"If I said I would like to spend a lazy afternoon grooming your wings, because they need it and because I want to?" Crowley took a deep breath, filling his very human nostrils with the lovely familiar scent of his best friend. "And if it ends in human or otherworldly sex, then it's okay, but it's not the goal?"

"Oh, that sounds divine, my dear." Aziraphale turned his head and pressed his lips to Crowley's neck, making the demon shiver pleasantly.

"So it would be alright with you if we go back to doing this when it feels natural, rather than you proving a point - because it's so far beyond being proven that I think we lost sight of it somewhere past Mars."

Aziraphale's laughter sounded like raindrops on bells and Crowley drank it all in.

"I do believe you are right - I did let myself get carried away, a smidge."

"A smidge."

"Well, perhaps more than a smidge."

"Just a tad," Crowley agreed, but he could feel the smile curving his own lips without even trying to stop it. This was perhaps closest to what he wanted - and whatever else might crop up, all he'd have to do was ask Aziraphale for it.

"And what do you mean by my wings needing grooming, they're perfectly fine." And there he was, the fussy, persnickety bastard.

"Just saying that I keep my wings well more groomed than you do. Always have - though I think if possible they've gotten worse since the day on the wall."

"Well, I'll be…" Aziraphale huffed, then collapsed in laughter, pushing his nose against Crowley's ear, the huffs of breath tickling. "You are teasing me."

"You are terribly easy, and extremely cute when you're flustered," Crowley admitted. "But I'd really love to fix up your wings - they are in a bit of a state."

There was a soft woosh and white wings curved around them.

Crowley sighed and twisted his upper body enough to let his own spring free.

Neither of them said anything more. They just lay there, holding each other, white wing layered over black - and for all the beauty in the world, Crowley didn't think he'd ever seen anything quite that beautiful.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot longer than initially intended, but I do hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. A simple idea took flight and became a flock of seagulls (you know the kind, those who will try to steal your fish supper and shit all over the place).
> 
> Here's to needing a bit of smut and it turning into a journey of discovery on top of it.


End file.
